The Bonds That Bind
by mysticLegend11
Summary: MurtaghOC Jeannette is a servant to Murtagh, but as time elapses, she becomes entangled into a web of love, conflict, and hatred. RECONTINUED AFTER A YEAR-LONG HIATUS.
1. First Sight

Yeah, this is my second story. I haven't read Eragon or Eldest in forever, so forgive me if I get facts wrong. I don't really know what to do with it, but here it is...

Prologue

"Silivkia," the Twins muttered. Instantly a fierce pain shot up Murtagh's spinal cord, causing him to writhe like a slug immersed in salt. As the agony finally ebbed, he gasped for breath, and gave a mordant stare of hatred.

"Is that all you got?" he challenged.

"Oh, I see. That wasn't enough, so you want more, don't you, you traitor?" he hissed through his teeth, a smug smile on his lips.

"Your mission is to bring me back to Galbatorix alive. He's not going to be particularly pleased when he hears that you tortured me to death on the way," Murtagh said with pure venom soaked in every syllable.

"Are you challenging me?" an angry voice replied.

"You wouldn't-" Murtagh started, but was cut off with a surge of anguish far, far, stronger than the first wave, if that was possible. Try as he might, he could not suppress a scream, which echoed down the cave.

"STOP IT!" a furious voice shouted. The pain receded, and Murtagh looked up to see a female servant dressed in rags.

Her fiery crimson hair was fastened in a high bun above her head. High cheekbones outlined her fair face, which was covered in layers of sweat and grime. Unfathomable orbs of amethyst met his ebony eyes, and he flushed slightly when he realized he was staring like he had never seen a girl before.

_What is she doing with the Urgals?_

"This is none of your business, Jeannette," one of the Twins said gruffly.

"I just made it my business. Galbatorix will punish him personally, and I don't recall him asking you to do the task for him," she riposted forcefully.

"Why would we listen to a lowly slave like you?" one of the Twins scorned with contempt.

"If my memory serves correctly, a lowly slave like me saved the life of your brother by plugging these two fingers into his artery to stop the bleeding. I don't see why you couldn't have done it," she alleged. The Twins paused to think for a moment, but it seemed like they were out of options.

"You've got guts, blackmailing us like this. But I suppose it's true that I do owe you," he turned to face Murtagh, and said, "We'll settle this later, when your precious lover isn't here to protect you." They left, heading further down the passageway. She leaned down, offering a hand to help Murtagh back up. He didn't take it, but got up perfectly fine by himself.

"That was unnecessary. I could have handled them perfectly by myself," he said gruffly, a bit embarrassed to be saved by a girl.

"I'm sure you could," she concurred easily. _Ungrateful boy_, she thought to herself.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm a healer for the Battle of Farthen Dûr, since we're so short on hands," she responded, "Are you all right?"

"Of course," he replied quickly.

"What a pointless question to ask. Well, unlike you, I have chores to do. If you need anything, just call for me," she said, turning her heels to walk down the stone cave. _Jeannette, hmm..._


	2. A New Rider

Chapter 2: A New Rider

Thank you, everyone for reading and reviewing! I very much appreciate the support. This is ridiculous, considering I have 21,000 words for my other story and one person reviewed but I have 500 words for this story and four people reviewed. Well, to break the 100 reading stat mark, I'm going to update this chapter. I don't know if this is good or not, but I am going to move extremely fast through this story. The romance will be obvious by chapter four. By chapter... err... 10 or so, it'll be the end of Eldest, and I'm going to make my own version of Empire. At max, there will be 40 chapters, probably around 20-30. And no, there probably isn't going to be a sequel. Enjoy! This is a pretty long chapter, plus there are a lot of new characters.

A month later...

Jeannette's heels echoed down the stone chamber. It was her shift to serve breakfast for Galbatorix's royal subjects, and she wasn't too thrilled by it. Servants who lived the longest stayed the farthest away from anyone holding power- and mastered the ability to slip through everything unseen like a shadow. After that she would be forced to wash the dishes as well, which took away an hour from her normal chores.

She climbed up the stairway, hoping to reach the kitchen. She had to take caution not to slip on the narrow, stone stairs, which spiraled down to below the ground. After opening the door and closing it gently, a guard grabbed her shoulder roughly. She turned around to face a burly middle- aged man. A malicious sneer intensified his ugly, profound features and beady black eyes. A brown scar covered the skin over his right eye, which was glittering in thoughts Jeannette would never want to know.

"What's a lovely treat like you wandering all lost?" he said in a gruff voice.

"I'm just heading for the kitchen to do my shift. Now left go of me," Jeannette replied indignantly, sending a strong glare into his amused eyes. His rough hand on her shoulder only squeezed tighter. She tried but could not suppress a flinch.

"What's this, Hæsten? Found another poor victim?" Two more guards appeared from the corner with malevolent smirks and dark eyes full of lust. _Bloody hells... this is not good..._

"Yeah, I found her all lost and confused."

"She's a pretty one- far prettier and your earlier ones, Hæsten," an perky, gruff voice observed. Unlike the other two, he was short and overweight with a huge protruding potbelly. Jeannette's eyes darted to her two escape paths: back down the stairs or to the kitchen. The two other guards were blocking her path to the kitchen, so her best chance would be back down the stairs.

"Thinking about running away, are you?" His cackled laughter showed off two rows of brown teeth and missing holes.

"No, I'm just going to enjoy myself while you destroy my body," her eyes focused on the scabbard on Hæsten's side. If she could capture his weapon and make a dash for the exit... would it work?

"This puny girl thinks she's some tough stuff, huh? Well, let's see." Both his hands clutched her vulnerable neck, but she reacted quickly. She spat in his eyes, and he cried in disgust, removing his hands to brush off the saliva. He never got a chance, though, when she stepped on his foot and elbowed him squarely in the ribs. She grabbed his scabbard, but the other two guards were already on top of her. One punched the side of her head, which slammed into the wall with a crack. She fought hard against the pain to retain consciousness. The other coiled his hands around her ankles and pinned his leg against her neck to the wall. She began wheezing for breath, but her futile efforts did nothing.

"You witch! You're going to pay for that!" Hæsten shouted in rage.

"She is going to do no such thing," a clear voice rang through the hall, "Release her immediately, or else you will face charges of defying a direct order by your superior." Albeit reluctantly, the guard regained his composure and set her free. She scampered to her feet, a bit too fast since she suddenly became nauseous. Her blurred vision refocused, and she turned to see the collected pale face of Murtagh.

"But sir, she aggressively attacked me for no reason. I was only attacking on self- defense, so she deserves punishment."

"I'm the one who calls that. If I see you three anywhere near her, you will not get off this easily again. Am I clear?" Murtagh commanded with a steady gaze. Hæsten shivered in contained, silent rage. He cast a death glare at her, grabbed his scabbard and gestured the other two to leave with him. Once they were safely away, Murtagh turned his attention to Jeannette.

"Thank you," she gave a low bow.

"Consider it even."

"I got lucky that time, but his other victims aren't so going to be so fortunate. He's probably going to take out his fury on another servant," she said in a low voice.

"It's regrettable, but there's nothing I can do about it." Jeannette didn't reply, but kept her eyes low and swiftly walked past him to the kitchen. When she arrived tardy, the cook looked at her in dismay.

"Do you know how late you are?" she sneered.

"I apologize, but I met trouble along the way," she bowed her head.

"Thank goodness for your friend Alanis. She's filling in for you."

"Is she?" Jeannette blinked in surprise.

"That's right," a flirty, high- pitched voice came from behind. Jeannette smiled at her friend. Although she knew Alanis spent hours in front of the mirror trying to emulate the lovely ladies of the court, she would never become a beauty. She was short and terribly skinny, which made Jeannette wonder if she ever ate anything at all. Her head was too big and round compared to the rest of her body. Two round chocolate brown eyes gleamed in amusement over a small, stubby nose and full red lips. She was one of the two people Jeannette truly trusted with her life- the other one was the old, crippled librarian, Wynfrith.

"Well, I knew you were dreadfully busy with all that work coming back from the horrific rebel battle at Far Darfur," she said, settling the greasy plates in the sink.

"Farthen Dûr," Jeannette corrected, but Alanis continued.

"Tomato potato. Anyway, I decided to cover for you, and now you owe me," she finished perkily.

"Thank you, Alanis. Are you going to wash the dishes for me too?"

"You're so funny, Jeannette! Why, I'm not touching these slimely plates again after this. You can wash them." She was a bit eccentric too; there was no doubt about that. Rolling up her sleeves, Jeannette cleaned off the extra morsels of leftovers into a bag and put it in a sink full of water and soap. Just when she thought she was done, Alanis brought in a new stack of plates, goblets, and bowls.

"Whew, that was tiring. Well, I'll be going on, Jeannette. One of those nobles even commented on how beautiful I was. I think I'm going to go stalk him," she daydreamed.

"Be careful out in the halls. Never be alone. Some guards are looking for some pleasurable company," she warned her, but Alanis brushed it off.

"I'll just seduce them with my beauty," she sighed in contemplation. _Good luck at that._

"Alanis, Jeannette. I've been looking for you," a familiar voice called. It was Isiah, the master of all the slaves. Being dashingly handsome and Alanis's previous secret crush, he was quite popular among the servants. He never cracked his whip, nor tested his power. He got to know each one personally, and worked with their strengths and weaknesses to plan out what chores they are responsible for.

"Oh, Isiah! What is it? You know you can always rely on me," Alanis gave a sugar- coated, tantalizing smile. Jeannette guessed she worked on that smile for hours in front of a mirror.

"As you know, the traitor Murtagh has been recaptured. He asked for a loyal servant, someone willing to run errands," he explained. Being Murtagh's personal servant also meant risking meeting Galbatorix face- to- face. And doing that is the easiest way to die. Who would take such a chance?

"Murtagh, Morzan's son, first and last of the Forsworn?" Alanis repeated, alarmed.

"That's correct." Jeannette's best friend was too easy to read. She was probably wondering whether he was cute and thinking of the best way to flirt with him.

"Hmm... sorry. Nope. We're not interested," she replied, then stood up.

"I'll do it," Jeannette agreed, planting both feet on the ground.

"Are you out of your mind, Jeannette?" Alanis bursted at her in disbelief.

"I know what I'm doing, Alanis. I've always been the more reasonable one."

"Humph. Fine. Don't listen to your poor friend. You'll regret it later," she stormed out, furious. Isiah raised an eyebrow when she slammed the door behind her, but chose to close his mouth.

"All right. Current duties?"

"Serving meals, washing dishes, cleaning the stable, taking care of Reba, milking the cow, working at the infirmary, helping Wynfrith in the library... yes, that's about it," she listed.

"Very well. Your duties at the infirmary and library will be relieved. Is that fine?" he marked something down in his sheet of paper. Jeannette opened her mouth to protest. Working in the infirmary and library were the two tasks Jeannette loved doing, while she abhorred the rest. Was it really worth to give it up? _I hope, as Alanis said, I don't regret this later._

"Very well. Where are his quarters?" she sighed reluctantly.

---

"Hold still, won't you?" Jeannette ordered. She dipped the rag in warm water, using it to clean out the bloody wound on Murtagh's right arm. His eyes seemed to be glued to her like a magnet, fascinated and enthralled because he had never met anyone like her before.

She didn't walk like a slave at all. Her head was held high in pride and purpose, and her back was straight, not like the other servants, who cowered on sight. Her eyes looked straight ahead, not glancing nervously at her feet.

"How in vermilion hells did you get such a nasty wound?" she asked.

"I used a sword in self- defense, so he cut a gash through my dominant arm just to teach me a lesson and prevent me from doing so again."

"That doesn't explain the sprain," she contradicted.

"And then he twisted my arm. Satisfied, slave?" She didn't even glance up from her work.

"I have a name, you know. It's Jeannette, which means 'God is gracious'," she gave him an irritated glance.

"My name is-"

"Murtagh Morzansson. I'm no idiot," she snapped, "I'm your assigned servant. For the most part, servants know the names of their masters."

"Ah, so that's why you were in my room. I apologize," he said in an irritated tone, not sorry in the least.

"Apologize for what?" she joked, a smile on her thin, wry lips.

"Never mind. Ow! That stings," he winced as she applied a cream on his bleeding flesh.

"Would you rather get an infection and die?" she asked flatly.

"You're doing a fine job- or, at least I think you are. You didn't poison that cream or anything, did you?" he responded.

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I would never want my sweet lord suffering," she commented sarcastically, and then changed to a more serious tone, "I've only worked at the infirmary for a few years as an assistant. The skilled healers there could probably heal it on the spot."

"Galbatorix can easily heal me with magic. He wants me to learn how to bear pain, that's all. Besides, this is like a toothache against what I faced earlier this month." Shadows filled his sockets as he remembered the unspeakable agony of the mental torture he endured. For a moment, Murtagh thought he saw a flash of sympathy in those curious dark lavender eyes, but it was quickly replaced by concentration at her task.

"I think he's mad," she alleged audaciously. Murtagh was so amazed at her tongue that he gave a bitter chuckle.

"He's mad, all right, but don't let him hear that. I don't want to know what would happen to you then," he suggested.

"What? Worried about me already? That's so sweet of you, but unnecessary," she gave a seductive, tantalizing smile.

"Keep dreaming," he grunted. _She doesn't talk like a slave either. _Most servants would address him as 'Worthy One' or at the very least, 'sir.' But she was talking frankly like she was some childhood friend who had known him forever. He was unused to this affability, but secretly enjoyed it. He watched intently as she wrapped the white bandage around his arm carefully, rolling it tightly and making two knots.

"There, that should do it," she replied, glancing at the clock, "It's late. You need your rest."

"Yes, _mother_," he replied sarcastically.

Ignoring his little attitude, she gave him a long list of instructions to keep his arm in good shape. "Here's the sling. If it starts bleeding again, just-"

"I'm not deaf. I heard you the first three or five times you said it," he said, eyebrows twitching in annoyance.

"That's good to hear, _sweetie_. Good night. Part of my never- ending duties is to wake you up and bring you breakfast, so don't shout at me tomorrow morning, all right?" she blew him a kiss.

"Humph. I'll be looking forward to it," he grimaced when a sudden jolt of pain went up his arm.

"And now I have the right to call you a typical arrogant aristocrat."

"What did I do now?"

"Ah, it's nothing. I could have ignored that nasty wound and let you suffer. Actually, maybe I should have," she gave a thoughtful look.

_Masters don't thank their slaves. Or do you not know that?_ He suppressed his desire to say it, and replaced it with a courteous thank- you.

A victorious smirk grew on her thin lips. "See you in the morning." After she exited the door, making sure to shut it tightly, Murtagh listened as the clicking of her heels faded. He undressed, making sure he didn't extend his injured arm in any painful direction. As he pulled the covers over his head, Jeannette's bewitching smile, sharp violet eyes, and soft touch still lingered in his head. _God is gracious..._

_---_

Jeannette soaked the garment in water and soap. After dinner, she would come back and replace the blood- soaked water, scrub a few places, and hang it up for drying.

She grabbed another pail of water full of dirty clothes, a bar of soap, and cleaned out the stains. With a mouthful of clothing pins, she took each garment, drained out the water with a twist, and hung it on a rope near the window.

She tossed the wet apron on the shelf and dumped the water into the drain. _Ugh, what does Murtagh do with his clothes? Use them as cleaning rags?_ Done with laundry, she took out a pencil and small piece of paper from her pocket. It read:

1. Serve Murtagh and the nobles breakfast.

2. Wash the dishes.

3. Feed the animals, milk the cow, clean out the stable, etc.

4. Do laundry (Murtagh's and my own)

5. Serve dinner

She checked number four, and felt rather pleased. She had finished all her chores with a few hours of spare time before dinner. With her rare moments of leisure, she usually read a good book, gossiped with her friends (while helping them with their chores,) took a cleansing ride on her gray mare, Reba, or gave a helping hand at the infirmary.

_Actually, I think I'll see what Murtagh's doing._ With a smirk, she set off on a short adventure to find the collected son of Morzan.

She climbed up a fleet of stairs, ignoring the ominous faces, heading toward Galbatorix's chambers. When walking by a door, she put her ear next to it. She didn't hear anything. She pushed the door open, and it creaked open slowly. Glancing around, she saw a desk with papers, a lamp, and a rug. Nothing lavish or luxurious. There was another ebony door with carved intricate designs in the corner of the room. She tip- toed across, but when she did so, she knocked over the lamp. _Oops..._ She quickly lifted it back up, making sure the flames stayed inside the lamp. Putting her ear to the other door, she heard voices. Noticing a large keyhole, and the eavesdropper peeked through.

Standing there was King Galbatorix; there was no doubt about it. No one could mistake the dormant hatred and power inside of him. A single derisive glance could bring a full- grown man to his knees in fear, a single mordant word scar his memory for eternity.

Next to him, kneeling, was Murtagh. But what he was kneeling to brought incredible elation and shock to Jeannette. It was a _dragon_. A crimson, infant dragon. She squinted to get a better view, but Galbatorix's void- black eyes turned to meet her mauve ones.

Fear cut into Jeannette like a dagger. She jumped back, a shiver racking her body from her scalp to her toes. _He knows I'm here. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all._

She silently crept out of the room, making sure to shut the down behind her. Adrenaline was still pumping in her veins. She could hardly believe her luck. She had met a dragon. A dragon, creature of legends! _Murtagh is so fortunate. One in ten thousand people get the chance to become a Rider! _But as her elation started to wear away, her mind drifted to other things that weren't so pleasant. Now that Murtagh was a Rider, he would be far more important. Galbatorix didn't have any heirs that she knew of, so perhaps... _Then again, it's going to take a while to kill the ancient king._ The king is certainly going to make Murtagh swear absolute allegiance to him in blood and the Ancient Language. He already knew Murtagh's real name, but Galbatorix isn't taking any chances this time. Not only that, but he would be pitted against Eragon, and the people he had earlier fought alongside in the Battle of Farthen Dûr. Things did not look too good for him.

She walked down the staircase to the second floor, where she turned to enter the library. Rows of shelves were aligned neatly throughout the vast room. There was a high, vaulted ceiling with a hanging crystal chandelier. Immense windows from all sides poured in refreshing sunlight. This was Jeannette's favorite room, as well as the warmest and most comfortable.

This was the great library of Algaesia (although frankly, it's only of the Empire)- or at least part of it. It was only one wing of several. Each book here was treated like a royal guest. Important records were re- copied and bound by hand.

Her hand brushed an old, mahogany desk and stool. It was on this table where Wynfrith first taught Jeannette her letters. When she was only a little girl, she had enjoyed coming here every morning when there was ample sunlight to practice her writing and calligraphy. She practiced and copied until her hands were raw and her eyes were tired and red. But still, she was never satisfied until her handwriting glowed with masterful brilliance.

Her eyes filled with nostalgia. It had been a long time since she had done that. She was probably terribly out of practice.

"Jeannette," a soft voice called.

"Wynfrith," she said, helping the old librarian to a chair. He looked far more ancient than Jeannette had remembered. The old wrinkles along his forehead, eyes, and mouth were more profound and deep, and new ones were created everyday. His hair had turned into a dead white mop from age. His back was hunched, and he was forced to use a cane. But his mind and eyes were as sharp as always. He was her teacher, her mentor, and perhaps even a grandfather.

"I'm not as young as I used to be, Jeannette. Actually, I feel ancient, and it's weighing down my limbs. I'm not going to live much longer, and perhaps that's a good, refreshing break for me. Point is, though, I wish to place you in charge of this library. You're a young woman now, and probably your heyday. If you don't want this burden, it's fine. I understand. Men like me- or perhaps a bit younger- are very attractive to woman your age." His sharp dark eyes held a humorous hint. She would miss that look unbearably.

"I'd be honored."

"Good. Now I can meet my Creator in peace without worrying about my books coming to me as well."

"Well, you know how much the books love you. They couldn't bear to separate," she added to his joke.

"Ah, well, maintenance still remains to be done, particularly on the higher shelves that I can't reach."

"Wynfrith?"

"Hmm... yes?"

"Can you hold out longer- for my sake? Please?" she held his hand between hers, and gave a beseeching, tantalizing gaze full of sorrow and want.

"Arrgghh! I'm 82, on my deathbed, and I still haven't learned how to resist that look after all these years. Humph."

"So you'll do it for me? Thank you so much." She leaned over to kiss on his wrinkled forehead, but she could not hide the sorrow in her eyes.

---

"Murtagh Morzansson, I cannot believe you broke your arm _again_ after all those instructions I gave you!" Jeannette paced around the room, trying to contain her rage. Murtagh felt a tinge of fear, since the grimace on her face made her look like she was one step away from throwing something or slapping him. If looks could kill, Murtagh would've gone to hell and back dozens of times. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "You are one lucky person to have me in your service. What other servant would have enough experience to treat your wounds?"

"I apologize. The king was not particularly pleased with my reaction today. But now, at least, I'm a..." he trained off, not wanting to reveal his secret to her.

"Rider? I know already," she first looked at the deep gash on his hand.

"How-"

"How did you get this gash? Looks like it was done on purpose, and it's very deep," she analyzed his bleeding hand.

"I swore my loyalty to him with blood, and he needed quite a bit, just in case," he grimaced.

"Damn that... Galbatorix. The world would be so much better if he just dropped dead..." she ranted under her breath. She washed his hands in water to clean out the wound, and then applied citrus balm to speed the healing.

"Never say that- or even think about that again, do you hear me?" Murtagh gave a strong glare at her, "He can read thoughts, and you aren't going to live long if you keep whispering that."

"Don't worry. I don't plan to meet him anytime soon." She wrapped the bandage around his hand tightly, and unlike the first time, he resisted a flinch. He was about to spit out some witty retort, but thought better of it. Perhaps he shouldn't provoke her in such a capricious, furious mood. The silence grew more profound as she concentrated on cleaning and fixing the wound. When she was done, there was a smug satisfaction in her eyes.

"Murtagh?" Her voice was hesitant, even small, and that piqued Murtagh's curiosity.

"Yes?"

"Could you, perhaps, teach me self- defense?" she asked with a hopeful look. Murtagh was immediately surprised. His servant wanted to learn how to fight from him?

"As in sparring lessons?" The idea seemed almost comical to him. Him, a new Rider, teaching swordfight to a meaningless, female slave? He was about to snicker, but stifled it when she glared at him.

"Well, since a weapon isn't always readily available, some form of defense would be adequate," she corrected.

"We'll see. I suppose I could try," Murtagh agreed reluctantly, still ridiculing about the image.

"If you don't... well... I'll never heal you ever again," she blackmailed him.

"That's fine. Soon enough I'll be able to heal myself anyhow," he said proudly and stubbornly.

"Will you please teach me? I don't want another episode like what happened this morning," she begged.

He sighed. This servant sure was unrelenting.

And that's the end of this one! Stay tuned, the next chapter:

Chapter 3: Black Magic (Sorry, not Infatuation. My mistake.)

Hope you guys all enjoyed this one. I appreciate all the support, as well as constructive criticism.

"Reviews make the author happy. If the author is happy, the author writes longer and better. If the story is better and longer, the readers are happy. Thus, reviews benefit everyone. You know what? Screw this. Just review, please?" –mysticLegend11


	3. Black Magic

Here is some criticisms for the Inheritance Trilogy that I found extremely interesting, and much of it I could go on ranting for the entire chapter. The oxymorons later were very entertaining. If you don't give a crap, just scroll down to the story.

**Negative**

_Common Sense Media_ found the book exciting but overly detailed:

"

_Eldest_ could have been several hundred pages shorter without harming the plot at all just by cutting some of the lengthy descriptions of nothing important to the story that Paolini loves to write and that give him a chance to show off his vocabulary. 5

"

_Entertainment Weekly_ lambasted the book, calling it a "Tolkien knockoff," saying it owed another debt to _Star Wars_ (implying the first did as well), and that overall it is "mind-numbingly silly," finally giving the book a rating of D+ 6. Later, they named it the number one worst book of 2005, calling it a "700-page Tolkien wannabe 7," and cited a specific trope from Tolkien: "the ageless elves speak wisdom."

Kirkus's review of _Eldest_ noted that it is "suffused with purple prose and faux-archaic language," and is a "patchwork of dialogue, characters and concepts pulled whole cloth from the fantasy canon 8."

There was also criticism over the inclusion of strong anti-religious sentiments (Paolini's elves are vegetarian and atheist, although they have no problems killing many humans in battle), several elves-including Arya wear leather clothes and allusions to sex in a book marketed towards children. One Christian site stated, "Evidently Paolini thought it imperative that he show the world that not all homeschoolers are Christians" 9 Some have even gone so far as to accuse Paolini of preaching atheism.

There are a number of inconsistencies in the world-building and plot elements of the Inheritance trilogy.

When Brom first begins training Eragon, he speaks with him about how to fight a dragon if needs be. Their bellies are soft, considered weak spots. However, later, when Eragon, Murtagh, and Saphira are trying to seek the Varden's entrance, they are attacked by Urgals. The Urgals fire at Saphira's belly with arrows, but they "bounce off".

The elves are vegetarian. They do not hunt eat meat. (They are not vegan because they still eat eggs). However, Arya wears black leather.

The elves are athiests. They do not believe in gods or an afterlife, even going so far as to chide the dwarves' religion. They pride themselves on making logical conclusions about the world around them. The dragon Glaedr instructs Eragon by killing a woodrat, saying "When the flesh is destroyed, so is the soul". However, spirits are proven to exist in the world. Spirits posses the Shade Durza. In Eldest, the mage Trianna offers to teach Eragon "how to summon and control spirits".

Dragons are said to never stop growing, which is why armor for them is so rare to come by. When Saphira leaves Farthen Dur, the dwarfs offer to keep her armor for when she needs it again. At the end of Eldest, a significant amount of time has passed, but Saphira can still wear her armor.

Roran hides from the Ra'zac and their soldiers when they come for him in Carvahall. As a result, the village is eventually attacked and comes under siege. The Ra'zac steal away Katrina and give Roran a wound that pains him for the rest of the book. However, when Roran convinces the village to flee through the Spine, the villagers brag that Roran is such a mighty warrior that not even the Ra'zac could stand up to him.

The use of Deus Ex Machina to cure Eragon of his crippling back pain, when during an elven ceremony spirit dragons change him into something akin to an elf, an event that "has never occured in the history of the Riders". _citation needed_

The main criticism of Eldest and its prequel are that the plot of the two books correspondes almost exactly with that of the first two Star Wars Movies A New Hope (Eragon) and The Empire Strikes Back (Eldest).

---

I've finally decided on an ending! Yay! I went to bed at 9:30, but my mind was so engrossed with planning out this story that I didn't fall asleep until midnight (I must have at least eight hours' worth of sleep or I can't function at all during the day.) Thanks to you guys, I have purple bags under my eyes now.

My friend, Jes, who just reviewed for me, is such an amazing writer. I swear that she's, like, ten times better than me. Such inherent imagery and allegorical skills... it's like she was born with it. sobs Don't mind me, Jes, I'm just ranting helplessly in envy. Visit her Fiction Press site at, username Aotsuki. The babbles there are _amazing_, and she doesn't get nearly enough credit.

Anyways, back to my story. Almost the entire story is going to follow Jeannette, but I never really focus on Murtagh alone. Anyone think I should balance the two? It'll be difficult for me, since I haven't really tried that, and it's not my style.

Nevertheless, enjoy! Sorry that this chapter is a bit short.

---

Chapter 3: Black Magic

Alanis was leaning against the wall with a happy, aloof expression, watching Jeannette intently. Jeannette, on the other hand, actually had work to do. She was cleaning out the stable, which was originally the stable boy's job, but unfortunately he was elevated to Stable Master, and he coerced Jeannette to do it. Although she wasn't ecstatic, she agreed. Why?

1. He was abusing Reba, the gray mare.

2. She would end up doing this job anyways.

3. She got more time to spend with the animals, which sometimes made better companions than humans.

She didn't mind it too much, since she was relieved of mopping duty. The worse part was scooping out the manure, and when she did, she held her breath as long as she could. But still, taking care of the cow still had its rewards. Secretly, she managed a sip of lukewarm milk every morning, when all the other servants were reduced to the restrained meal of coarse bread and skank water.

"Sooooo, Jeanette. I would love to meet this precious Murtagh of yours," Alanis gave her a grin that was all teeth and in no way pleasant.

"Nope, sorry. Don't want you trying to seduce him all day long," Jeannette shook her head. With a metal scraper, she started clearing the ground of the saffron, filthy hay. Alanis would be perfectly oblivious to Jeannette's arduous tasks, and Jeannette had given up persuading her.

"Oh, come on, Jeannette! You're no fun," she pouted with round puppy eyes.

"You'll see him around eventually," she shrugged. Reba, who had been kicked out of her stall, neighed nearby, and her front hooves kicked softly at the wall.

"Almost done, Reba!" Jeannette called. She kicked the heap of hay outside, which was used as natural fertilizer.

"Here you are, conversing with an old horse. And you call me strange," she said, her chin held high in disdain. Surprisingly, Jeannette didn't feel like arguing with her today. She spread out the fresh stack, spreading it evenly on the ground. She walked to the exit, turned around and admired her hard work. The barrel was brimming with dried corn, and the water basket was refilled. She went to the adjacent stall to fetch Reba.

"Please, Jeannette? Please? I promise not to drool on him." Alanis beseeched in a sugar- coated tone that only sounded whiny in Jeannette's ears.

"Let's make a compromise. I introduce you to Murtagh, and you serve the barons dinner today," she offered, pulling Reba's reins to redirect her.

Alanis clapped her hands and squealed. "Deal!"

"I'm not making any guarantees. I suppose I'll lead you to his room after this." She flipped over the wooden latch, locking Reba inside. It neighed softly as it sipped the fresh water. She walked out the barn, heading back to the main wing.

"Is he romantic?" Alanis followed her like a shadow.

"How romantic do aristocrats get?" Jeannette retorted uninterestedly.

"Incredibly-"

"To their slaves?" she scoffed in incredulity. She climbed up the dimly- lit stairs, and Alanis followed, her heels clicking zealously.

"Well, he could be different," Alanis said stubbornly. Something in Alanis's words struck Jeannette, and she nearly flushed. In all those years he had stayed at Urû'baen, he had tried to avoid the courts as often as possible. He was more interested in swordcraft than frivolous flirtings, and mourned the death of his mentor, Tornac.

"Perhaps he's different than most barons, but he is, in all respects, certainly not romantic."

"How about attractive?" Alanis suggested. Jeannette sharply turned a left, cutting into the guests' quarters.

"That would be a matter of perspective."

"What do you think?"

"I think he'll make a fine Rider," Jeannette said in a soft voice.

"What's a-" Alanis continued ranting her questions, but Jeannette stopped her.

"We're here." Alanis looked around at the dreary spacious room, disappointed. The furnishings were typical of any royal guest. She only saw a comfortable bed, an ebony desk, a mirror, washroom, and closet. A large rectangular window with red satin curtins spared some meager light the unflattering bedchamber.

She had seen this sight hundreds of times, but it was Alanis's first. Still, Jeannette felt uneasy because of some intense distinctive vibe in the air. Her muscles jittered restlessly, but try as she might, she did not know why. It was like an itch just out of reach or a forgotten word on the tip of her tongue.

"What is that?" Jeannette wondered aloud.

"What is what? Is that?" Alanis repeated with a raised eyebrow.

"You don't feel that?"

"No, I don't feel 'that,' but I'm wondering if you're feeling okay," Alanis joked. _How can she not feel this…_

"Never mind. He's probably training again. Maybe you'll see him next time," Jeannette walked out, trying to shake off her unexplainable unease.

"I'll be looking forward to it. Oh, no!" she clapped her hands on her cheeks in dread, "I forgot! I'm supposed to be helping Isiah!"

"Helping Isiah do what?"

Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, but she muttered, "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention with what he was saying. I was too busy staring at his gorgeous eyes."

"Well, good luck." Alanis waved and departed in a great hurry. Jeannette took a deep breath, trying to calm her jumping nerves. She glanced back at the room again. She noticed the clothes thrown in a heap in the corner, the ink spot on his desk, and the overall disarray of the room. She hung his clothes in his closet, organized his desk, scraped off the ink, and made his bed. After folding the last corner of the blanket in the perfect place, she realized the vibe was stronger here. There was nothing under the covers. She reached down for a opening beneath the bed, but she pressed something, and it clicked softly. It was a drawer, and inside it was… a heavy, black leather book**Arcanum abr ****Svartr Seiðrar**, read the title. Gaping at the title, she knew what it meant, as if it had been written in Algaesian. _Secrets of the Black Arts._ She had never seen a language like this before, but yet... Curiosity and thrill exploded like a canon inside her, and her fingers shivered to contain its zeal as it flipped to the middle of the book. Her amethyst eyes darted to the beginning of the chapter, and soon she was engrossed entirely in the book.

**In the ancient times, magic was first triggered through focusing one's thoughts. When the user was distracted, there were often terrible consequences. To prevent disaster, the Fair Folk cast the greatest spell in history, which allowed them to control magic verbally by commanding it aloud. However, being complete imbeciles, the Grey Folk died out, since they could only speak the truth.**

**This is the foundation of dark magic- to be able to control it on whim without physical boundaries. Their power would only be limited by the user's strength and imagination.**

**The most formidable obstacle was concentration and control. The wielder must be able to focus on the extent, power, and source of the spell to bring about more destruction and potency than any ordinary magician. There are checks and balances to prevent destruction from occurring, in case the sorcerer is temporarily distracted. Meditation and other exercises are crucial for...**

_Murtagh is learning black magic?_ She flipped to later pages, which contained endless lists of spells, chants, and vocabulary in a language that she had never seen before, yet understood.

**Telekinesis Spell- Gripr frá rïsa**

**Be utmostly careful in execution- control and strength will be necessary to direct path and sustain height.**

**Ring of Fire- Hringr abr Brising(armo)**

**A useful technique when the sorcerer is outnumbered, surrounded and physically disabled. Since it takes a massive amount of energy, it is rarely used. Size and strength of the ring may be controlled.**

**Temporary Burst of Strength- Byjgga boði megin, Ass!**

**This spell offers enhanced speed, power, reflexes, and energy for a limited amount of time. However, in retaliation, the body will suffer from exhaustion and overexertion shortly after the spell breaks. Stamina is needed to sustain the spell, but it may be broken on whim.**

"JEANETTE!" a furious voice cut through her consciousness like a blade, and her head jerked up in surprise and fear. Standing in the doorway was a livid, fuming Murtagh. "What in lúka do you think you are doing?" He strolled over and slammed the heavy book shut, nearly cutting off her fingertips. He sealed it and hugged it protectively, which made him look like a ridiculous jealous child like as if someone touched his assets.

"How did you find this?" His voice was shaking in controlled fury.

"It was making a spectacle of itself under the bed. I was merely dusting its pages," Jeannette fired crossly. _That sounds like something Alanis would have said._

"Don't screw with me, slave. _How did you find this?_" His dark ebony eyes glared in accusation with a glint of hatred and conceit. His tone was dangerous, even threatening. _Okay, so you don't like people messing with your possessions. I totally comprehend that now. Why couldn't you just say it nicely?_

"I was cleaning your miserable room and I found it. End of story. Besides, I have a few questions to ask you as well. Is Galbatorix forcing you to learn black magic?" Surprise and amusement entered his face at her question.

"What made you think that?" Jeannette realized that the entire book was in elvish, so how could she have read it?

"I'm not an idiot. The cover itself is menacing enough," she lied. His charcoal eyes inspected her from her hair to her toe, as if searching for clues of lies and hints.

"Never, ever, even _think_ about looking at it again, do you hear me?"

"So you can continue becoming a black sorcerer? So the past you can become buried deep in layers of avarice and blood- lust? _So you can become your father?_" Her voice climaxed in anger and power, and her fists clenched in determination.

**_Slap._**

Before Jeannette realized it, she was sprawling on the ground. Flabbergasted, she couldn't believe it. Murtagh had the guts to slap her? She touched her red, stinging cheek.

"Perhaps you should watch your tongue." His voice was dripping in venom. She looked up at his despicable gaze, which cast a tinge of fear inside her. Silent, she stood up and absconded her room. Not looking back, she fitted down the hallway. Tears of frustration and hurt threatened, but she blinked them back. A lump formed in her throat when she remembered Murtagh's accusing void- black eyes. _If he is so intent on becoming corrupt, I won't try to stop him. I'll simply be there to say 'I told you so' when he regrets it._ Her thoughts were clouded by her childish frustration, covering her common sense and compassion. She knew this as well, but she did nothing to stop herself. Prying into his possessions was wrong, but she denied it.

Her curiosity rose even above her aggravation. Could she find a book in the Ancient Language? She had never noticed such a book in the library, but it was worth searching for.

Chills tingled up her spine. This was powerful magic- if she dug in deeper, she may entangle herself in a dangerous dilemma to the point where she can't unravel herself.

Still, she would risk it. The powerful language had stirred Jeannette's blood. Her mind was not sophisticated- she considered short and long term possibilities, and percentages from her point of view.

She had never imagined what life would be like if she wasn't an Imperial slave under the king's nose. She had no chance to be anything else. Heavens knows what would happen to an unguarded, vulnerable young woman in the streets of Uru'baen. But with magic to defend herself, it wouldn't matter. She might not be a slave for the rest of her life, at least.

She analyzed, but she only came up with this: anything was possible.

Sorry that this one was short, and the next one will probably be as well. Thank you all!

Next Chapter: Chapter 4: Infatuation


	4. Infatuation

I just found a new interest: writing in semi- archaic style, a very interesting (and so far successful) experiment.

I finished two chapters two days in a row... I'm so proud of myself.

Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Infatuation

Jeannette was avoiding Murtagh. That much was obvious. She still did her chores and followed her daily routine. However, try as he might, he only caught a few fleeting glimpses of her. _Damn that Jeannette... is this her way of punishing me? If it is, it's working, so you can stop now._

"Hvass kenna fá," Galbatorix whispered. Murtagh grimaced in pain at the intrusion of his newborn ward. Fatigue weighed down his languish limbs even more, and he was afraid of collapsing any moment.

"Someone seems preoccupied today. Care to share what's going on in that blockhead of yours?" he said in contempt.

"Why ask when you already know?" Murtagh panted, clenching his sword.

"You are so much like your father. He had woman troubles as well," an amused and interested look entered his eyes.

"I am nothing like my father," Murtagh contradicted, "Never call me that again." Despite the threat in Murtagh's tone, Galbatorix brushed it off with a cold grin.

"So you say. When you realize it, it'll be all too late." _As if I don't have enough people telling me that already_, Murtagh thought as Jeannette's words echoed in his head.

"Enough pep talks." Just as he finished his sentence, a spear threw itself to Murtagh's right side, and he barely managed to dodge it. He was caught off- guard as the spear corrected its direction and headed straight for him. He cursed as the spear penetrated his shield entirely and stopped an inch before his nose while hovering in the air.

"There's no point in training you while you're distracted. I expect your utmost attention next time, and get rid of those ridiculous thoughts of your servant."

"Yes, master." He forced himself to bow awkwardly, despite his exhaustion. With a wave of his hand, Murtagh was dismissed. He was curious though, about one thing.

"The book of black magic that you gave me... I thought I was the only one who can touch it," Murtagh said inquisitively.

"Not quite. Since both of us made a blood bond, our relatives would also be able to gain access to it, but it would reject anyone else. Thus, only me, you, and Eragon would be able to touch it," he explained.

"Eragon?" Murtagh repeated, alarmed.

"I never did tell you the truth, did I? After Selena gave birth to you, she was quickly impregnated again. With failing health, she absconded. After two years, she returned, only to die shortly of a fever. The only reason I remember this so clearly is because your father couldn't stop ranting about her verbally and mentally," he explained with a smug smirk.

"How can you prove that Selena gave birth to Eragon?"

"Selena is peasant- born, and she has blood ties to Garrow, his brother and Roran, his niece. Both of them live in Carvahall, and that is where Raz'ac reported the next Rider to be," he added, getting exasperated.

"But that doesn't prove-" He was desperate for a way to escape this inconvenient truth.

"If you don't believe me, Brom was hiding at Carvahall, waiting to see what Eragon would become. Why would he, a former Rider and creator of the filthy Varden, hide at Carvahall for 20 years?" Murtagh fell silent, struck by the revelation. He couldn't begin to assimilate this. _Eragon and I... are brothers?_ He ran out the door, refusing to believe it. Thorn could help calm him. He walked quickly across to the immense underground chamber to Thorn, which lay below the entire structure of the castle.

---

Jeannette couldn't believe it. She had searched the library inside out, and yet nothing! Not a single word, not a single chapter! The language may as well be nonexistent. Her frustration was building like a volcano ready to explode.

"My, my, haven't you been busy lately," Wynfrith chuckled.

"And only to end up with nothing," she sagged her shoulders in defeat.

"I wouldn't say that. What are you doing in here? You're at your heyday. Go chat with that inane Alanis or take a ride on Reba. A beautiful young woman like you shouldn't spend all her few days inside," he nudged.

"Very well, Wynfrith. It'll be dangerous for me to stay here longer, anyhow," she smiled at him and quickly left. She walked quickly, cursing at her horrible luck.

"What's the hurry?" a voice squeaked from behind. _Alanis._

"Nothing. I just think I need to blow off some steam," she replied with a counterfeit smile.

"Why?"

"That's private."

"Are you going to go beat up Murtagh? Can I watch?" she pouted.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snorted, "Although it is a pleasant thought."

"Of course, Jeannette would never hurt her precious Murtagh. You know what, Jeannette? I think you like him," she spat out.

"Are you crazy?" Her face grew a boiling crimson, and it was the worst reaction she could have made.

"Jeannette loves Murtagh! Jeannette loves Murtagh! Jeannette loves Murtagh! Ahhhh! Don't hurt me!" she screamed, running down the hallway. Jeannette chased her in pursuit, trying to take revenge on her.

"Stop saying it!" she cried, covering Alanis's mouth with her hand.

"Okay! Don't you think you're overacting here?" she squeaked in defense. _Could I really be infatuated?_ Jeannette had never fallen in love before, never had a secret crush. She didn't know the answer to her own question.

"I'm not sure if I like him or not," she mumbled, scarlet faced.

"What are you saying? Either you like him or you don't. It's not hard to see the fine line," Alanis explained.

"True, but..." She flushed deeply, and Alanis giggled hysterically.

"You definitely like him. Ooh, isn't this exciting! Forbidden love between a powerful prince and a beautiful servant! It's almost like the fairytales," she laughed.

"Please don't give me your immature anecdotes." _I do see the dilemma in that, however._

"Well, you can keep lying to yourself or listen to me. I suggest you grow some balls and tell him that you love him," she commanded Jeannette prissily.

"Over my dead body," she muttered. What should she do? She'll probably give it some time to sort out everything. She couldn't keep avoiding him forever. Sooner or later he's going to track her down.

"Well, don't you have chores to do, Alanis? Or are you just going to torture me for the rest of the day?" Jeannette changed the uncomfortable subject.

"I think Isiah likes me." When Jeannette scoffed, she added, "He asked me to help him. Me, out of all servants! Not only that, but when our fingertips met," she started giggling, "he blushed deeply! He looked so sweet, he was almost edible."

"Ick. I wonder how long this crush is going to last," she sighed. Suddenly she remembered something.

"Could you ask Isiah to speak with me? There's a favor I need to ask him," she said.

"Why don't you ask him yourself? You're perfectly capable of talking," she shrugged.

"I have chores I need to do. Besides, it'll offer you a discussion topic," she replied. _Not like you don't have enough topics already._

Alanis gave her a sly look, wondering what she might want to say to Isiah. Suddenly Jeannette had an idea. She remembered where Murtagh and Galbatorix were training. If she snuck in there... maybe she could find a clue, or better yet, the book again. All she had to do was follow her instinct. But if she got caught, there might be terrible consequences. Still, an act of high risk- reward ratio got her blood stirring. All she needed to do was get rid of Alanis.

"Well, I'm going to visit Reba." She walked down the hall, but to her dismay, Alanis followed.

"I'll come too!" Alanis offered.

"No, no," she said a bit too quickly, "Plus I'll be cleaning up the manure."

"Okay, um... isn't the stable the other direction?" Alanis gave a bemused look. After a pink tinge appearing on her cheeks, Jeannette flushed but regained her composure.

"I'm just getting a treat for her in the kitchen," she lied. She felt uncomfortable lying to her best friend, but it was so trivial she didn't care.

"Well, okay, since you want to ditch me so badly, I'll be avoiding you too," she pouted and skipped daintily down the opposite end of the hall. _I'm so pathetic. I can't even lie well without making a complete fool of myself._

She walked toward Galbatorix's quarters, a plan hatching in her mind. _Go in and look as quickly as I can, then creep out after learning whatever I need._ She pushed open the door, and glanced around. The same old lamp, desk, and carpet. Nothing moved or changed. She slowly tip- toed to the intricately carved door, and peeped through the keyhole. She saw only darkness. She squirmed, trying to focus her eyes to see better, but to no avail. _What's wrong with me? I saw another room here just a month ago._ Frustrated, she kicked the door, and immediately regretted it. A pain shot up her leg, and she jumped while crying 'ow.'

_Stop being short- tempered and stupid, Jeannette. Think. _

_Still, even if I did see something inside, would it matter? There's no knob, so how would I open the door?_ Murtagh and Galbatorix could probably open it with magic, but how could she? It was totally stupid and hopeless.

Red- face from chagrin and frustration, she stomped to the door. Mid- way, her arm knocked over the lamp. _Not again!_ Careful not to start a fire, she set it up straight. Something was wrong here. She looked at the meager flame carefully. It burned, but the wax candle was the same height as she remembered the first time. There's no way the wax would last that long. She hovered her hand near it, and surprisingly enough, there was light, but no heat. She raised her eyebrows. She took the candle out and set the flame along a piece of paper. Any ordinary fire would devour the paper in seconds, but the flame simply stayed there, doing nothing. Excitement exploded in her. _Magic._ Was this the answer?

Suddenly something creaked. Her mouth gaped as the door swung open by itself. Cautiously, she crept in, and observed her surroundings. There was a throne made out of a strange compact crystal and a woven map of Algaesia. She closed the door behind her, but she made sure she did not to lock herself inside.

She felt the strong, uneasy presence of magic, but it was very faint. _Let's see... where could it be?_ She walked toward the source of her unease, and approached the map of Algaesia. The source came from behind. She lifted it up, but only to find a cold, stone wall. Adrenaline pumped in her veins. She had the uneasy feeling that she was being watched, but shook it off. _Am I supposed to mutter a few magical words and watch the stones open up to a passageway for me?_ She crouched lower, and realized the vibe did not come out from behind the wall, but rather from below. Was there a floor below this room?

She walked around the perimeter of the room, clicking her heels to see if the floor was really stone or if there was a secret passageway underneath. _The rug in the middle of the room..._ She lifted it up and she smiled victoriously. Lifting up the wooden latch, she found stone stairways leading below. Unfortunately, it was pitch black and she couldn't see anything beyond the fifth step. _The lamp!_ Hurriedly she ran into the other room, fetched the lamp, and went under the stairs. She had to restrain herself from squealing in delight.

As her heels clicked as she climbed down the spiraling stairs, it echoed down the small chamber. An ominous feeling entered her heart, but her elation brushed off her common sense. At last she came to a door. She put her hand on the brass knob. The reticent and curious sides of her fought for control. _It's true that I don't know what's waiting for me on the other side, but..._ Her curiosity won.

Hoping for the best, she turned the knob. To her incredible surprise, it led to a vast, well- lit chamber with wax lights hung on the walls. Laid out on the table on the side of the room was something emerald green. Her curiosity piqued, she approached it and touched the egg. Green tendrils covered the large egg like a web of lightning, and she couldn't stop staring at it. Its surface was smooth and untarnished like the most perfect crystal.

_Is this... Galbatorix's unhatched green dragon? _

_--- _

_The dragon stirred from its ancient slumber at the touch of the new human. Her warm touch was soft, appeasing, and inviting. The green dragon yearned to come out of its round, hard prison. He had been in here forever, and may be here for another eternity. He wanted to come see the world outside and explore great discoveries his ancestors never even dreamed of._

_She stroked him, and he dreamed of how it would feel like to have her hand on his bare scales. Was she the right one? She had an appetite for curiosity, adventure, and excitement. Was she brave? The infant dragon couldn't tell. Was she wise? Enough, he thought. Unlike the other people who had touched the egg, she wasn't ravaged by thoughts of avarice and power, only fascination. _

_She would make a great Rider- one powerful enough to change the entire events of Algaesia's history. _

_The dragon squirmed._

And that's the end of this one! Yup, it's a cliffhanger! I hope you all enjoyed it. Next chapter:

Chapter 5: First Kiss

Yup, they kiss in the next part! I told you guys I was moving pretty quickly.


	5. First Kiss

**"The complaints which anyone voices against his/her mate indicate exactly the qualities which stimulate attraction before marriage."** –Rudolf Dreikurs

I couldn't agree more.

Well, I don't have much to say. There were a lot of hints in the last chapter as well as this chapter. I just hope people picked them up. Thank you, everyone who R&R, and please continue to do so.

Chapter 5: First Kiss

"Jeannette! What are you doing here?" a male voice pierced through her consciousness. She turned and walked away to meet a concerned Murtagh, who placed a hand on her shoulder.

Galbatorix cursed inwardly. All activity inside the egg ceased completely as the baby dragon continued its hibernation. _So close. It may just be as well._ A tinge of fear entered him, a feeling that had not swept inside him for years upon years.

"I... I just wandered down here," she stammered lamely.

"It's dangerous to be down here. I don't know how you got past all the magical traps or illusions, but- Anyways, you should go now. Galbatorix probably already knows you're here," he commanded her exasperatedly.

"If he knows I'm here, why hasn't he done anything? It probably means I'm safe," she concluded.

_The only reason I haven't done anything is because of the egg's activity... but then, you've still got your blood to protect you. _

"He's as capricious and short- tempered as you are. And just like you, I can't begin to fathom his thoughts. Still, it's far too perilous to be here," he responded.

_So Murtagh. This is the lovely woman you were ranting about._ Jeannette cast a look of alarm at this unspoken remark. She gaped as she saw what appeared behind Murtagh. His scales were a piercing, deep shade of blood red. His head was tilted in curiosity, but his jaw was ready to bite in self- defense. He looked as ferocious as a dragon should look, with a column of knife- sharp spikes down his spine, and a fearsome look in his carmine eyes. Although relatively small in size, she knew it would grow to become a creature of legends.

"Oh my goodness. Is he your dragon?" Her eyes glittered in fascination, a smile placed on her wry lips.

"His name is Thorn. Thorn, meet Jeannette," he introduced us.

_You're so beautiful._ She did not mean to project it to Thorn, but he understood.

_Likewise._ Surprised but delighted at his response, she blushed.

_I can't believe I'm actually talking to a _dragon_. I would never have dreamed such a thing, and yet... _

"Ahem. As much as I hate to interrupt this friendly conversation, but Jeannette, it really is dangerous to be down here. You should leave," Murtagh glared at her, and when she didn't do so, he added, "_Now_."

"Only if you promise me that I'll get to meet Thorn again and have a chance to discuss a private lengthy conversation," Jeannette relented, only glancing at Murtagh's exasperated look.

"The time'll come eventually, but not now," he agreed. _Thorn, support me here._

_I'll be looking forward to meeting my master's mistress again._ Immediately Jeannette blushed.

"She's not my mistress," Murtagh corrected.

_So you say._ Reluctantly, Jeannette followed Murtagh when he grabbed her wrist and dragged her up the stairs.

"There's some things I need to ask you," he looked at her, catching every body movement.

"Not now. I have chores to do," she said, glancing out the window and seeing the orange sun hovering closely to the horizon. _Dinner should be starting anytime now._

"Will you meet me at the courtyard before midnight? No one should catch us then," he suggested.

"Hmph. Sounds exciting. I'll consent, Master," she curtsied slightly, and then did something neither of them would have ever expected- she pecked him lightly on his left cheek. As she walked away, Murtagh stood there flabbergasted, not beginning to assimilate what just happened.

---

The young Rider sat on the gray wooden bench patiently, waiting for 'mistress' to appear. _I should never have gotten Thorn to talk me into doing this. Who is he? Matchmaker?_ His nerves jittered, despite his best efforts to calm himself. It was probably midnight already. Was she late? Had she forgotten? Was she going to ignore him completely?

_Stop creating worries that aren't there, idiot. She'll show up... eventually. _

Finally his worries ceased when someone leaned on his head.

"Waiting for me? That's so sweet of you," she flashed a sweet, dazzling smile. His insides started to boil, and for a moment he forgot how to speak. She cocked a bemused eyebrow at the gibberish coming out of his mouth, but finally he found his voice again.

"Let's take a walk." Hoping his nerves didn't show, he stood up and took her hand. Surprisingly, she flushed as their fingers clasped.

_Her hands are so cold_.

_His hands are so warm_.

They took a silent stroll along the pond. Dark serene water reflected the waning moon above, and everything felt perfect, including the frog chirps and insect buzzing. The flora around them emitted an idyllic, bittersweet aroma.

"I wish I knew more about you," Murtagh attempted to start a conversation.

"Well, I'm not all that interesting. What do you want to know?"

"Who're your parents?"

"That question I've asked myself quite a few times. Truth is, I don't know. I've been a slave all my life, and I've accepted that. I pretty much raised myself, with the help of Wynfrith, Alanis, and Lyla," she explained.

"Who's Lyla?" he inquired

"She was pretty much like an older sister to me. I tagged along with her for the first ten years of my life, sticking to her like a sweater. She taught me how to wash dishes, take care of Reba, and so many other things I don't remember. Simply put, she taught me how to survive as a slave. So many of the skills I know today are passed on from her," she explained.

"I've never met her," he blinked.

"That's because she ran away years ago. She said I was old enough to be by myself now. There was no reason for her to stay longer, so she escaped. I wonder where she is now," Jeannette explained, a sorrow filling her violet eyes.

"I apologize," Murtagh offered his sympathy. _That still doesn't explain how she can touch the book._

"Don't bother. I'm over it by now. So, it's my turn to ask a question. What happened to you when you joined Eragon and the Varden? You changed when you came back."

"It's a long story."

"We've got time," she responded, eagerly awaiting his response.

"I made an inconvenient bond with Eragon and his sapphire dragon, Saphira. I also got a taste of the Varden's power and their style," he answered simply.

"Any female attractions?"

"Eragon was infatuated with an elven princess, Arya, who is beautiful but dull. She has no character. There is, however, the new leader of the Varden- Nasuada. She's- she's got more talent in her thumb than the rest of the Varden put together," he finished with a regretful look. Jeannette bit her lip in jealousy. _What I would give to make him look like that thinking about me._

"My turn," Murtagh hesitated, not sure what to ask her, "How old are you?"

"50," she retorted.

"I'm serious."

"I'm turning 16 in the summer. Satisfied?" she replied crossly.

"So you're actually younger than me," he concluded.

"Sit down," she dragged him on the stone bench and stared out into the star- lit sky. The midnight blue expanse glittered with numerous flecks of lights, covered in gray sheets of clouds.

"You see that?" he pointed to a random array of stars. "The dwarves call it the Anatam Constellation. The story goes that Anatam, a common shepherd, fell in love with Maori, the daughter of the king of spirits. She came down from the heavens as a beautiful maiden, and their affection blossomed into true love. Anu, the lord of the heavens, forbid his daughter to even go down to earth again, so Anatam came to heavens and begged to see his daughter. When Anu refused, Anatam and Maori fled, instigating the wrath of the powerful lord of spirits. Anu's Seven Guards chased them until they finally pulled a stake through Anatam's heart. Heartbroken, Maori committed suicide and joined her lover in hell. Ravaged by grief and rage, Anu agreed to put the constellation on the sky in honor of their epic struggle."

"Wow," Jeannette blinked.

"That's Anatam and Maori," he pointed to two shining stars cuddling close, "And those are the Seven Guards," seven distinctive minor stars surrounding them.

His charcoal eyes stared in wonder, but Jeannette's eyes focused on him. He had fine, distinctive features, a curved widow's peak, and dark short-cropped hair. His black eyes glowed with inner ambition and strength. He was attractive and desirable enough for any woman, and Jeannette was amazed that she had not noticed this before.

Alanis, not for the first time, was right. She was infatuated with this complex, mysterious young man, but it wasn't just physical. There was something about his spirit that tempted her, lured in her tantalizingly. His cunningness and strength only made her admire him even more and made him all the more desirable.

"Can you promise me something?" she bit her lip, nervous.

"That depends on the promise," he returned her gaze.

"Promise me that you'll never become corrupt like your father, or evil like Galbatorix. Swear to me that you won't become the weapon Galbatorix is shaping you into," she begged with a beseeching, desperate look in her mauve eyes.

He looked down and said nothing. "I'm afraid I can't make that promise. But in return, I'll make a different one." He pressed his lips against hers gently, waiting for her to return the kiss. She closed her eyes and licked his lips tantalizingly, challenging him. He indulged himself in savoring the delicious, exotic taste of Jeannette. They kissed under the moonlight like two lovers relishing the rare moment of affection exchanged. Life couldn't get any better.

"That- that was my first kiss," Jeannette stammered after their lips parted.

"Mine too," Murtagh agreed. She leaned her head on his shoulder, staring and wondering at the marvels of the sky. Adrenaline was still pumping inside her, and she felt like anything really was possible. She closed her eyes, dreaming of what could be.

How long they sat there like that Murtagh didn't know.

_Snore. _

It took Murtagh a few awkward moments to realize that Jeannette had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He had trouble stifling a snicker. He accidentally roused her, and she groggily woke up.

"What's so funny?" she rubbed her eyes.

"You were snoring," he laughed.

"Shut your mouth. It's your fault for calling me so late. Good night, Murtagh. Sweet dreams," she stood up and walked back to slave quarters. Murtagh remained, grinning from ear to ear.

_At least she isn't avoiding me anymore. _

---

"Jeannette! I swear I will murder you if you don't wake up this moment!" a voice shrieked.

"Shut up," Jeannette pulled the covers over her head. Fatigue weighed down her limbs, and she couldn't open her eyelids if she tried. She was beginning to regret her midnight rendezvous with Murtagh, despite the pleasure she had gotten earlier.

"This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to be the one asleep, not you!" Alanis kicked her in the stomach. Jeannette ignored her whiny voice and puny punches.

"If it makes you get up any faster, know this: Wynfrith is ill! He's on his deathbed at the infirmary!"

Dun, dun, dun. Cliffhanger once again. Yeah, I know you guys all enjoyed this one. It's probably the most romantic chapter I've ever written and ever will write for this series. Next chapter:

Chapter 6: A Perfect Utopia


	6. Perfect Utopia

Chapter 6: A Perfect Utopia

Galbatorix cast a bemused, annoyed gaze at his pupil. Murtagh had practically skipped to training, humming along the way. A grin was cast from ear to ear, lighting up his otherwise forlorn face.

"What got you into such a cheery mood?" he asked coldly, but Murtagh was undeterred.

"You don't want to know," he replied and drew his sword. Galbatorix didn't know whether he preferred the unfocused, irritated Murtagh he trained yesterday or this alien, optimistic boy standing in front of him today.

---

"If it makes you get up any faster, know this: Wynfrith is ill! He's on his deathbed at the infirmary!" Alanis cried. That got Jeannette's attention.

"I'm up! I'm up!" she said, and grabbed her dress. She stopped dead when Alanis cracked up, rolling on the ground with delirious laughter.

Eyebrows twitching, Jeannette said, "You just said that to get me up, didn't you?" Alanis simply smiled and walked out the room. Jeannette yawned and stood up. She was usually a morning person, since she went to bed early, but certainly not yesterday.

After performing her brief morning ritual, she realized that she was awfully late. _Murtagh probably woke himself up. He's a big boy._

Alanis suddenly returned with an alarmed look on her face, followed by Isiah.

"Jeannette, Wynfrith really is ill!" Alanis squealed.

"That's enough, Alanis. You can stop now," Jeannette said and walked toward the kitchen.

"No, what Alanis is saying is true. The doctors are treating him at this moment," Isiah added.

"What? Why didn't anyone tell me?" She changed her direction and started running toward the infirmary. _Wynfrith..._

"He was hospitalized last night from a severe breathing problem," Isiah explained.

"What's his condition now?" she inquired, growing anxious.

"You better ask the doctors about that," he said nervously. _That can only mean something's wrong._ At worst, he would die. He was ancient, and he had been throughout her memory. He had an irreplaceable place in her heart and a powerful figure in her past. 

She opened and closed the door again, rushing into the busy infirmary. Drowsing patients were set on beds with nurses hurrying to their business. She spotted Wynfrith's paper white hair in the corner, and she rushed to him. A snore escaped his lips. Waves of relief swept Jeanette. She grabbed a chair and sat next to him, staring at him endearingly.

"Excuse me, nurse. How is he?" she asked. The slender nurse shook her head.

"He's in unstable condition. There's no telling what may happen. He has occasional spasms where he is unable to breathe. He also has high cholesterol and high blood pressure, and he does have a history of minor strokes," she said with a sympathetic look.

"I see," she said softly. She didn't want to wake him up, so she sat there patiently and thinking of past fond memories.

"Nostalgic, Jeannette?" an old hoarse voice croaked. She looked up to see a tired Wynfrith.

"You're awake! Don't move. Nurse!" she gasped and gestured for someone to come.

"Don't bother. It's my time of departure. I can feel it," he groaned.

"Don't be ridiculous," Jeannette snapped.

"The only reason I've held on so long, Jeannette, is because-" his voice broke with a long series of hacking coughs, "Under the desk. The music box. The _key_-" He suddenly broke off, and nurses started to gather around him as Jeannette was pushed away.

"Serious heart attack. Two arteries blocked," the doctor said. _Two? How long has he held on just to tell me this?_

"I'm sorry, miss, but you need to leave," a nurse dismissed me. Distraught, she relented and walked out. Tears blurred her vision.

_Stop, Jeannette. He's not dead yet._

_The nurse attempted to bring his heart pumping again. Swarms of white aprons surrounded the dying old man._

She remembered his words. _Under his desk. The music box. The key._ _Where could the desk be? Probably in the library._ She hurried to the library and glanced around. Nothing changed.

_"Nothing is working! Switch to..." the doctor called, but it was all a blur to Wynfrith. Life leaked out of his dark eyes._

_Desk, desk, desk. Which one? It has to be under it, so..._ She approached the largest, grandest oak desk and lifted the red table drapes.

_Patients around him were aroused by the commotion. They stared in horror. This fate will be theirs too, one day._

She spotted it: tiny square- shaped cupboard. She opened it.

_He felt ethereal, as if his body weighed as light as a feather. His sight became nothing more than a swirl of color; his hearing was nothing more than a cacophony of voices._

There laid a heart- shaped, pink music box. Intrigued, she grabbed it and it opened by itself. Its rusty chime filled her ears. A clock ticked away. She saw it.

_"Time of death, 7:43, Second cycle of the moon, third day," the doctor announced. Murmurs of morose were whispered everywhere._

The key. It was nothing fancy, just a short, slender golden key. Its sides were covered with a thin layer of brown rust, but in the middle sat a fat, amethyst pendant. She didn't understand why it was so important, but if Wynfrith had told her on his deathbed- it must be of some value. She smacked the music box shut, its music cut off abruptly. She slipped both items into her pocket and hurriedly walked back to the infirmary.

---

"I'm so sorry, Jeannette. I know how much you loved him," Alanis apologized. Jeannette didn't say anything, but just increased her efforts at digging his grave. She dropped her shovel, exhausted. She wiped the sweat on her forehead. She was digging him a proper tomb, which he certainly deserved. Even though no one else was helping her, she would do it just fine by herself.

Dig, throw. Dig, throw. It was a tedious, redundant, and grueling process, but she would not relent. Finally, she had dug a decent, rectangular pit.

"Let's get Isiah now. I want to get this done with," she said, wiping her dirty hands on her apron. Alanis, a bit fearful, tagged behind. She and Isiah carried the coffin into the tomb. Jeannette was glad it wasn't a casket, since she would never have been able to decently look at his life- worn face without bursting into tears.

She shoveled the dirt back on top and set it on her shoulder.

"We'll get a tombstone later, Jeannette. We should mark this spot," Isiah said. She nodded as he marked it with his shovel. Still distressed, she returned back inside and dropped the shovel. The sky was already dark, and only a trace of yellow outlined the horizon. She entered her tiny, squished bedroom she shared with Alanis. She sat on her small bed, looking out the small, square window. Today had been such a blur. She bowed her head, and tears fell from her eyes onto her arms and hands.

She remembered the conversation she had with Thorn earlier.

_Do you believe in a perfect utopia, Thorn?_ Jeannette asked inquisitively with a glowing, wondrous face.

_I believe it exists._

_I don't believe it's possible. One's pleasure is another's suffering. _

_That's not always true. You and Murtagh are enjoying each other's company. There's no one hurting from that. _

_Maybe there is. I just don't know it. Besides, a world like this is far too contaminated to be cleaned. A new world with a clean slate, perhaps, and even then it'd be nearly impossible. _

_You're missing the point, Jeannette. If you don't even believe in a perfect utopia, there's no way it can be accomplished. I believe it's there, whether it's real or only in our dreams and hearts._

Yes, my last chapters have all been really short, and sorry about that. However, I've only just decided what happens in them, not their length. So, I'm going to stop bugging you guys now. Next Chapter:

Chapter 7: Eternal Scars

This chapter is going to be pretty important, and something exciting happens, not necessarily for the better either.


	7. Eternal Scars

Whew... my third chapter today. Enjoy!

Chapter 7: Eternal Scars

Jeannette was depressed. She no longer took pleasure in the things that used to warm her. Murtagh noticed this, and took great pains to try to make her laugh and smile like she used to. Unfortunately, it wasn't working, and Thorn was making parodies of him.

"How many people does it take to light a lantern?" Murtagh attempted a joke.

"I don't know," she shrugged.

"One thousand and one. It requires the King to order that the lantern be lit, nine hundred and ninety nine officials to pass down the order, and a slave to light the lantern." She just looked at him strangely and cocked an eyebrow.

"Sorry, that was bad," he flushed.

"I appreciate you attempting to make me smile, Murtagh, but..." she gave him a weary, sympathetic look. She kissed him on the cheek, and gave him an armful of clothes.

"I just washed and dried those. Have you seen Alanis?" she asked.

"Yeah, I saw her in the morning," he nodded. He had been asking Alanis about something.

"Alanis, hey!" he called her from the other end of the hall. She stopped in mid- step and swirled to face him.

"Yes?" she curtsied with a seductive smile.

"When's Jeannette's birthday?" he asked, sauntering up to the puny servant.

"Um... I'm not sure. I think it's exactly in... two weeks," she furrowed her eyebrows in concentration, "Yup, that's right. Two weeks."

"Are you getting her anything?"

"Are you?" she raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know what to get her. But don't tell her anything. Swear it," he said hesitantly.

"Don't worry. I'll tell her," she jumped excitedly. Murtagh couldn't believe she had a friend like this. Was she really enjoying this eccentric girl's company? He doubted it.

"If you're not interested on helping me, I think I'll leave," he said and turned around.

"She- she likes books!" Alanis offered. _Good. She fell for it._

"What kind of books?" he further interrogated.

She shrugged openly, "I don't know. I can't read." _A lot of help she is._

"Well, I'll be going now." He snapped back to the present, where Jeannette was looking at him expectantly.

"Where is she now? Do you know? I've been searching for her for hours," she asked. _I always see her everyday, but did I didn't see her today, not even in the morning._ Alanis would often follow her like a shadow, and the fact that she didn't see her today concerned Jeannette.

"No, I'm afraid not. I'll help you look," he offered.

"It's fine. Bye, Murtagh. See you in the morning," she waved. _She's probably flirting with Isiah or whatever._

"I can scry for her. Then we'll find out immediately," he offered, "Magic is quite useful, you know."

"Could you? I would really owe you," she offered a small smile.

"No problem. Follow me." He faced his mirror and closed his eyes. He concentrated on the image of Alanis's smiling, round face and skinny legs. _She should be somewhere close._

"Draumr Kópa," he muttered, his Gedwëy Ignasia burning. Jeannette felt a tingle of magic pass through the air. Jeannette gasped. The mirror showed the image of Alanis drowsing while clutching a beer bottle. Isiah and other guards surrounded her, also passed out from the booze. The glass from the cracked bottles lay everywhere.

"Alanis, what mess have you gotten yourself into now?" Jeannette cursed. Murtagh decided not to follow her, since she was so livid. She ran to Isiah's bedchamber and blast open the door. Alanis lay on the table, moaning. Her dirt brown hair was a mess and untied. Her clothes were filthy and wet from dripping booze. She was lucky the men hadn't touched her. Jeannette grabbed her hair to lift Alanis's head.

_Slap_.

"Ow," she muttered, trying to wave Jeannette away.

"You are getting out of here," she said, putting her arm around Alanis's shoulder. Her friend seemed to be completely immobile by herself, so she was forced to drag most of Alanis's weight. Thank God she as thin as a rail, or else Jeannette would have gotten nowhere.

Gibberish escaped from her mouth, but Jeannette was able to catch a few audible words.

"Him!" she shrieked. _I hope she doesn't puke on me._ Jeannette was too busy trying to place one foot in front of the other that she didn't see who was in the other end of the hall. She looked up from his foot to his face. Fear overwhelmed her._ Galbatorix. What does he want with me?_

"So this is the scum creating such a racket," he said with pure contempt.

"I apologize deeply, my King. She's-" she stammered, swallowing.

"YOU! You conceited, arrogant, lily- livered, good- for- nothing bastard! Unfit to rule the Empire! Mad! P-" She cupped her hand over Alanis's mouth, but the damage had already been done.

The king stood still, glaring disdainfully at the two cowering servants. Jeannette was cursing and praying.

"Please have mercy, my King. Please-"

"Move aside, slave," he commanded icily and drew his black sword, Heron. She flinched as the sheath and blade touched, creating an eerie ringing sound. Jeannette hesitated. She noticed that a crowd was starting to gather around them, watching the downfall of another poor victim.

_It's been such a long time since Heron has tasted blood that I've forgotten how it feels. It'll teach these spectators to fear my power. By the end of the day, propaganda would spread this lesson throughout the entire castle._

_Alanis, you bitch! Look what you've done! Now you're going to die and you don't even know it! Where is that stupid Murtagh when you need him?_

He shoved her aside with the flat part of his sword, and Alanis collapsed in a dirty heap.

With a victorious sneer, he raised his sword. This pathetic excuse for a slave would suffer until the last drop of blood would be drained from her veins. He raised his sword and swung.

"NNNNOOOOOOO!" Jeannette screamed and threw herself upon Alanis. She waited for the sword to chop her into pieces, but the blow never came. She opened her eyes to see the sword a millimeter away from her throat. The horror and terror in Jeannette's violet eyes would only make the kill all the more satisfying.

_Foolish, brave girl. Then again, I never expected anything less from you. Pity things had to end here, Lavina. I've played your game long enough._

Just as he swung his blow, something stopped it from reaching her throat.

"Murtagh, what's the meaning of this?" he said, turning around to face his apprentice.

Murtagh's voice shook, from both anger and fear. "You're not touching her."

"Rebellious fool." He muttered a few magical words without saying them aloud and immediately Murtagh collapsed, unconscious.

But then Galbatorix stopped to think. Would it really be smart to kill her? He was truly curious to see what Lavina would accomplish using this pathetic female servant. Besides, he wanted her to pay dearly for defying him. A tiny, nearly nonexistent fraction of Galbatorix felt admiration and pride for her intrepidity and wits. She would be worthy of being killed by his hand. Still, the vast majority of him was planning how the best way to make her suffer. _I hope you're watching, Lavina._

Tears glistened in her eyes, awaiting his judgement.

"If you're going to kill me, promise me one thing," she demanded. She saw no point in sycophancy or begging, since she was going to die anyhow. If she was, she was going to die honorably and fight to the end.

He grunted skeptically. "You're in no position to make demands."

"Spare Murtagh and my friend here. Take out all your fun on me," she said calmly. He sneered. She thought he was going to kill her, but she was wrong.

He didn't just want to kill her. He wanted to prolong the suffering, make her dread every second she stayed on this earth. He wanted to _destroy_ her. Scar her for the rest of her life.

He looked at her closely, and managed to recognize the resemblance between her and her parents. If she had grown up as a proper lady of the court, she would be one of the most sought after woman. If she took a proper bath, adorned on exquisite jewels and frivolous dresses, she would easily be the most beautiful woman in Uru'baen. And now she would never have this chance.

He struck four blows, each hitting with incredible precision. Jeannette touched her cheeks. Blood was spilling out from both. Delirious pain exploded from her cheeks, and she sat there paralyzed until the pain abated. It took her moments to realize that Galbatorix was gone as suddenly as he had appeared.

"You poor, brave child. I can't believe..." a woman approached her, and Jeannette recognized her to be one of the doctors she had assisted. She helped Jeannette get up, and she had a lot of trouble, as if her legs were made of rubber. _Why had he..._ Her mind was too shocked to work. There would be a lot more time to think about it later.

---

"Oh Jeannette! I'm so, so, so sorry. I've never been more sorry in my life. If there's anything-"

"It's fine, Alanis. I heard you the first hundred times you said it. You feeling apologetic isn't going to change anything," Jeannette said crossly. It had been two long weeks since the infamous incident. She was now famous among the servants for her stupidity and intrepidity.

She gazed at her reflection in the water. Two perfect X- shaped scars covered both her cheeks. She touched its hard, brown, rust, which showed it was still healing. After it fell off it would just be two extremely ugly scabs.

Galbatorix had robbed her of her beauty. She still wondered why. Why hadn't he just killed her outright? Why did he hesitate? An easy answer was because he wanted her to suffer, but then wouldn't amputating be sweeter? Part of her was regretting the deed she had done, and worse, she blamed Alanis for it, wracking frustration and bitterness onto herself. The other part of her full heartedly believed that she had done the right thing. _Is my vanity and beauty more valuable than the life of my best friend? _

She realized Alanis was staring at her sheepishly, and she took the garments out of the dirty water. Taking a mouthful of clothespins, she hung them up on the barbed wire near the balcony.

She glanced at Alanis, who was to her left. Jeannette couldn't believe it. Laundry was her chore, yet Alanis was helping her. Alanis never helped _anybody_. That is, unless she should benefit off of it. _She's probably just wracked with guilt- or her near- death experience had changed her quite a bit._

"Well, I'm done," Alanis alleged, wiping her wet hands on the apron.

"Same here," Jeannette nodded.

"Come, Jeannette. There's something I want to show you," Alanis grinned nervously and grabbed her wrist. She dragged her into library, where she closed the door tightly.

"Close your eyes," she said and covered Jeannette's eyes with her hands. She led her down the hallway, then into another room.

"You can open your eyes now!" Alanis squealed. Jeannette gasped and smiled.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Murtagh and Alanis chimed together. Here was a new extension to the west wing of the library. It had originally been under construction, but everyone lost interest and the project was abandoned. After Wynfrith died, Jeannette was insistent on complete this room, but not surprisingly, no one had listened to her. Now it was complete. New wood shelves aligned the library neatly, half- filled with books brought in from the rest of the library.

"You guys..." She went up to them and hugged them together. "...Are the best."

"I wouldn't say that," Alanis bit her lip. Jeannette replied by hugging her a second time. She could still smell the fresh layer of paint covering the walls.

"I can't believe you finished this in such a short period of time without me noticing. Did you do this while I was hospitalized?" she grumbled in bliss. Alanis nodded vigorously.

"It was Murtagh's idea. He's really smitten with you, you know," Alanis smiled full heartedly for the first time that day.

"It was nothing," he blushed.

"Thank you all," she said as she kissed Murtagh on the lips.

For a moment all her worries ceased. Jeannette was happy. She forgot about her lost beauty, the incident that had scarred her memory. She forgot about her redundant, horrible fate as a servant. For the moment, all that mattered was the people inside and the wonderful books, all which she loved.

But the moment of bliss was ephemeral; there were scars etched so deeply that they remained for eternity.

Yeah, my last chapters have gotten so short. This one was pretty bad with the Galbatorix thing. I might come back and re- edit this chapter. Aw, well. I'm too lazy right now. The next chapter, I suspect, will be far longer. Next chapter:

Chapter 8: Poisoned Hearts

I'm finally approaching the end of Eldest. The next chapter will include the first scene of the Battle of the Burning Plains. Then you won't see much of Murtagh.


	8. Poisoned Hearts

Some of my earlier chapters had missing italics and things like that. Why didn't anyone tell me? I've managed to correct this using a longer uploading process, but I don't know if it's just me or if everyone else has this problem...

Okay... I have a few things to ask and tell.

Do you want this story to be an EragonOC as well as a MurtaghOC? I could add a conflict by forcing Jeannette to choose either one.

Do you want Jeannette's future to be told by Angela?

What color do you want Jeannette's dragon to be (don't choose the taken ones)? What name: Miremel, Lenora, Alelda, or Vluerona? Miremel and Lenora came from Eragon, but I dunno yet. I want the name to sound as dull as possible (hint hint).

What do you want the ending to be?

1. Happy (Don't choose this please. I'm not that type of writer.)

2. Moderately sad (This is what I'm going to do, since it's the most poignant out of the three.)

3. Extremely sad, and makes me look like a sadist. (Even I'm not that mean. Haha.)

Main characters (or essential characters):

Murtagh w/ Thorn

Jeannette (w/ her dragon)

Eragon w/ Saphira

Galbatorix

Lavina

Supporting characters:

Alanis

Isiah (Don't they make a cute couple?)

Wynfrith

Arya

The Twins

Ricbert

Angela

Lyla

Izlandazi

I know you guys all have questions about Lavina, and she will be formally introduced around chapter 13.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Since I haven't had one yet...

**Disclaimer: I own everything. Mwhahaha! Synch, I wish. Only my characters, but not anything beyond that.**

This is my longest chapter yet, and I really enjoyed writing it, so I hope you enjoy reading.

Chapter 8: Poisoned Hearts

"Come to think of it, I never did teach you self- defense, did I?" Murtagh's pale lips curved into a smirk.

"That's okay. I just learned from someone else who was more willing to cooperate," Jeannette smiled artfully. Unexpected jealousy churned his insides.

"Who?" he asked a bit too quickly.

"Isiah. Is a problem?" she smiled, enjoying his surprise and envy.

"No, but I'm curious to see what you've learned," he replied, regaining his composure.

"Are you challenging me?" she asked skeptically.

"Why not?" he raised an eyebrow. Jeannette swallowed in hesitation and dread. _He could kill me._

"Don't worry, I won't bite you, and I assure you that you won't be able to lay a finger on me," he kept his amusement and eagerness inside. He handed her a finely crafted, steel blade. She took it, surprised that it was so light and flexible. He himself chose a crudely cut wooden sword and tested its weight and length.

"This way we're a bit more evenly matched," he explained. _Nah, really. Am I really that slow?._

"No magic, promise?" she prepared herself in a defensive position.

"You-" She didn't wait for him to finish his sentence. She struck a low blow, which Murtagh blocked with amazing alacrity. She rebounded with a series of quick, well- aimed strikes at his arms and legs. She backed off to regain her breath. He made no offensive moves, but simply observed and defended through dark sullen eyes.

She knew he was only testing her ability and fighting style. There was negative chance of her winning from the very beginning, and both of them knew it well.

_Think, Jeannette. You have the advantage in weapon, but nothing else. He has faster reflexes, more strength, and more endurance. So how can you put up a good fight?_

She must penetrate his defenses before she could even touch him, so how can she do such a thing? A distraction, perhaps?

_Ugh, whatever. I'll just try my best._ For half an hour, she kicked, lunged and struck, but to no avail. No matter what she did, his wooden sword was always in the way.

"Not too shabby... for a filthy female slave. You honestly think you can do anything with this level of swordsmanship?" he snorted, intentionally provoking Jeannette's anger.

"You shut your mouth," she snapped.

Her frustration was building up immensely, and Murtagh's words only fueled her determination to prove her strength. She was never a patient person, after all.

Jeannette was quickly losing energy. Beads of sweat glittered on her face, while Murtagh's pants haven't even wrinkled. _I have to end this now._

Suddenly a plan formed in her mind. _I must be totally crazy to try this, but Murtagh could probably heal me later._ Calming her jumping nerves, Jeannette did something absolutely absurd and stupid: she stabbed her right thigh.

"Ow!" She cursed aloud and collapsed at the sudden wave of pain. She was careful, however, to still hold her silver blade in position for attack.

Obviously alarmed, he rushed to her, dropping his wooden stick.

"Are you- Ow!" he said, but she swung her sword and it pierced Murtagh squarely on his left shoulder. A trickle of blood dampened his shirt.

"Nice hoax," he commented, cringing. "I can't believe I fell for the oldest trick in the book." She smiled victoriously, but it quickly turned to a wince when a fresh wave of pain struck her.

"Let me heal that for you," he bent down to reach the bloody gash on her thigh, "Waíse heill." A silvery light outreached from his left hand and met the injured tissue. She was astounded as a tantalizing tingle spread from her thigh around the rest of her body. Her thigh felt amazingly warm, and the pain was abating. In front of her eyes, her cut disappeared in seconds. Seeing her astonishment, he offered a hand. She took it with a weak smile and rose to her feet.

"Waíse heill," he repeated as he healed the slight cut on his shoulder.

"Did I ever tell you how you never cease to amaze me, Murtagh?" she stared at his healed shoulder, hypnotized.

"And did I tell you how you never cease to surprise me?" he retorted, "I can't believe you injured yourself just so you could strike a blow on me. Did you really want to win that badly?"

"Well, I just wanted to prove that I'm not stupid or weak," she bit her lip.

"I know that already, Jeannette. You don't have to prove anything to me," he said, "And besides, ironically, you succeeded in proving that you are impetuous and dumb. What kind of fool would injure themselves in practice? Never, ever scare me like that again." Jeannette flushed, embarassed by her ridiculous act.

"I'm-" she started, but as she walked to Murtagh, she slipped on his wooden sword and fell flat on her back.

"Ow! That hurt," she cursed aloud under Murtagh's delirious laughter.

"You are so going to pay for that," she threatened, getting up while getting the dust off her clothes. He just chuckled when she glared at him with murderous dark eyes. She grabbed a fistful of Murtagh's dark shirt and pulled him until their noses were half an inch from touching.

"You manage to block every one of my blows, yet you don't have the reflex to catch my fall? How _ironic_," she gritted her teeth, emphasizing her sarcasm by saying it slowly.

Murtagh took a moment to stare at her in a new perspective. Close- up, he saw unattractive marrities on her skin, but they were nothing compared to he two enormous Xs on both cheeks. The brown, crusty scab had fallen off, replaced with a new, regrown layer of epidermis that was darker and uglier than the rest of her peachy skin. Despite its montrosity, she chose to wear it proudly as a testimony to prove what she had gone through. He knew she considered wearing a mask or something to prevent people from staring at her in wonder, but he knew she decided against it.

A part of Murtagh found new admiration. Secretly, she may regret her choice inside, but if she did, she didn't show a hint of such a thing. Another part of him found himself even more allured and fascinated by the strength of her spirit. Now she didn't have her beauty to protect her- quite the opposite- but she did not pause to drown herself in pity or shield away from the shocked stares. Galbatorix had originally tried to make her dread every second of her life, but Jeannette had amazingly turned around and done the opposite by holding pride in her scars.

He realized that Jeannette was still waiting eagerly for a response. He chuckled aloud and wrapped his arms around her slim waist.

"I'm glad you didn't lose your fire." He kissed her eyebrow, but his tongue proceeded downward to her lips.

The door swung open, and someone skipped inside. "I just heard-" The kissing couple parted, blushing crimson and turning their boiling faces away from each other.

"Don't mind me. You guys can continue slathering your tongue over each other. I'm sorry I interrupted, so I guess I'll be going now," Alanis said and turned around.

"No, we're fine. What is it?" Jeannette asked.

"Well, in that case," an evil glint entered her chocolate eyes, "I just heard news that another rebel battle is soon expected."

"Where did you hear that?" Murtagh replied, his curiosity piqued.

"Servant gossip. It does travel at the speed of sound," she responded flirtingly, "I'm surprised you haven't heard, Jeannette."

"Yes, it's true. The army from Gil'ead is already proceeding to meet us at Uru'baen. In a week or so the soldiers from Uru'baen will head west of the Jierda River, where we will meet the recruits from Dras- Leona, Teirm, Belatoria, Kuasta, and even as far north as Narda," Murtagh confirmed.

"What? Why didn't anyone tell me earlier?" Jeannette demanded, irritated by the fact that she was only one who didn't know of this important, upcoming battle.

"I thought you were pre- occupied enough already," Murtagh shrugged.

"Same here," Alanis concurred.

"Well, Murtagh, at least you'll have a personal servant this time, eh? And I don't want to hear it from both of you. I am coming with you whether you like it or not," she said adamantly.

"But then I'll be the only one left behind!" Alanis whined.

"You won't die by a few weeks by yourself, Alanis. You're a big girl," Jeannette snapped.

"That's not fair-" Alanis started protesting, but she was sharply cut off.

"Didn't I say I didn't want to hear it from you?" she growled. _Serves her right for not telling me earlier._

"When are we leaving, Murtagh?"

"Within the week," he replied.

"Within the week! And we still have all our packing and preparing to do! Well, don't you guys have work to do?" she twitched her eyebrows. Alanis and Murtagh glanced at each other helplessly and departed. _Now that's more like it._

---

The sky was a gorgeous infinite blue expanse from the fathomless ocean to the west and the Hadarac Desert in the east. Everyone in sight was proceeding in an orderly line to cross the Jiet River. The heavier carts and steeds were crossing the ancient, stone bridge while the troops were being ferried across to lessen the time needed.

She had been insistent on staying with her cart of herbal medicines and personal belongings. She knew that a servant of her lowly status should never be seen alongside the king's most valuable asset, so she was careful to distance herself.

"Oi, girl. Can you try to hurry your horse a bit? It's dragging down the line," a gruff voice called from behind. Jeanette turned, still walking, to see an annoyed stout horseman sitting regally on a brown stallion.

"I apologize, but my mare is incapable of going any faster. However, your horse looks capable enough. If you would kindly allow your stallion to help my horse, I think our pace would certainly quicken," she snapped back.

"Don't be ridiculous. I ain't letting you touch my magnificent stallion," he scoffed.

"Then don't be complaining," she retorted. The river rumbled below Jeannette's feet. The blue torrents cascaded down the river, crashing into the shore and the occasional stone.

"Say, girl. What happened to your face?" the horseman blurted in curiosity.

"And that affects you how?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Just wondering why a lassie like you got ruined like that," he shrugged.

"You don't want to know," she gave a heavy sigh.

"Hey, you look pretty tired there. Want to take a break?" he offered, patting the end of the leather saddle. Her leg muscles were exhausted from the week of continuous walking, carrying, and riding, which made his offer hard to refuse.

"We could get to know each other better," he suggested.

"I thought you wouldn't let me touch your magnificent stallion," she quoted.

"I'm a mysterious man. Are you getting on here or not? I'm not usually this kind," he replied with a glint of humor. _He won't make a ruckus here with everyone around us, but if he does... I can protect myself._

"Very well. You have my thanks," she agreed reluctantly. He stopped the horse as she swung her legs across the saddle, making herself comfortable. She was forced to touch the middle- aged man while sitting right behind him, and she tried to ignore his distinctive stench.

"The least you can do is answer my question."

"Well..." she touched her scar, but her hand quickly jerked back, "The king scarred me because I was in his way." The moment the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them. _Why did I not lie?_

"The king gave you that much attention? Boy are you a lucky kid," he chuckled. Jeannette had to stop herself from gaping. _Me? Lucky?_ she wondered grudgingly, _I suppose, although I've never thought of it like that._

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Jeannette. Yours?" she replied. She liked this man. He wasn't overly generous or compassionate, but he was an average citizen of the Empire, and at least he had a sense of humor even Murtagh didn't have.

"Ricbert."

"So Ricbert, what's your reason for being here? Participating in battle? I don't see any armor," she inquired.

"Aw, well, see lad, my son's participating in the battle, so I decided to tag along as well. Still want to crank out some action into these old limbs," he chuckled.

"Well, at least we need your enthusiasm. Most of the soldiers here are drafted and torn away from their families by coercion. I'm beginning to doubt we can win with such disheartened troops. We may have the advantage in number, but the other side has powerful allies," she speculated.

"Well, whatever you say, I hope you don't jinx us." The day dragged on for what seemed like forever to Jeannette. Her legs were happily dangling, but her rump was getting sore from the uncomfortable position. After everyone finished crossing the river, they took a short break to allow everyone to catch up, and soon started again. She didn't see a glimpse of a dark silhouette in the sky, so she guessed Murtagh must have moved further ahead.

"What's in the sky that's so important? You've been glancing up the entire day," the man inquired gruffly.

"Nothing. Just checking the weather," she shrugged. She wasn't lying either. Clouds from the sea had quickly accumulated and spread toward them. _At this rate, it may even shower during the night._

"Uh- huh," he muttered, clearly not believing her.

"Well, you don't have to believe what I tell you," she crossed her arms and looked once more at the sky.

---

Jeannette organized her hair in a high ponytail. She crouched, opening the tent folds to step outside. Surprisingly enough, beads of fresh rainwater ran down the smooth triangular tents from the night's passing shower. The large leaves were heavy with dew and the muddy ground was spotted with brown puddles. There was a slight fog in the damp air that would soon disperse when the sun glowed higher in the sky.

There were few people outside, which wasn't surprising considering it was so early that the sky was still dark. She walked slowly toward the forest, in the opposite direction from the Jiet River. They had settled camp here yesterday evening to tomorrow's strenuous trek. They were so close, since their final destination loomed in sight. She was quite sure they would be able to make it by tomorrow if they moved at a brisk pace to make up for the lost time crossing the bridge. Other moving patches of troops were also seen scattered, both under the Varden and the Empire.

She inhaled greedily the scent of the idyllic forest, the burgeoning center of life. An unseen bird chirped in the distance, followed by a fluttering of leaves and rebuttal of another bird's high- pitched shrills. Two distinct shimmering bodies of blue and brown broke from the canopy overhead, shrilling and flirting as they spiraled higher into the sky. Jeannette smiled. _It's spring, after all. They're mating._

She heard trickles of water flowing nearby, and was content to find a clear, running stream. She bent over, cupping a handful of icy cold water. It slipped through her fingers, but she quickly splashed her face with a few bursts of fresh water. She cleaned her arms and legs, and wanted to bathe, but there wasn't enough water- or enough privacy to do that. And she was right.

"Good morning, Jeannette," a voice came from behind. Her body jerked up from her crouching position, her eyes darting to the voice.

"You nearly scared me half to death," she snapped, but she was secretly content to see Murtagh after so many arduous days of constant traveling.

"Yeah, I've missed you too." He reached out with his mind to find out whether any people were near enough to see them, and was satisfied when he found only the dim- witted minds of forest creatures, so he kissed her lightly.

"Don't do that," she said, pulling away, "Someone could see us."

"Don't worry. I would know," he shrugged, an intense look in his charcoal eyes.

"How?" she asked skeptically.

"Fundamentals of magic," he responded easily, "Besides, I've always been the more cautious and sensible one."

"Perhaps," she said crossly, not in the least dissuaded, "So what are you doing here?"

"You really need to miss on our greetings," he raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, how's this for a greeting?" She smirked broadly, formed a mud ball in her hands, and hurled it towards Murtagh's ever-so-stoic face.

_Splat._

His face was covered in thick, brown, dripping mud. Jeannette laughed deliriously, trying to restrain herself from rolling on the ground. Murtagh wiped it off with his hands, spitting out a nasty mouthful of slick mud.

"That was payback for letting me slip and nearly breaking my back," she smiled victoriously. He wiped off the remaining mud with his sleeves, then gave a death glare at her, eyebrows twitching.

"Two can play at this game," he challenged. _Uh-oh._ Series of mud balls flew with amazing accuracy at Jeannette.

"Aaaahhh!" she screamed for her life. After stealthily dodging a fat, slow one, another one slammed into her skirt. She hid behind a tree for dear life, but it didn't remain a safe sanctuary for long. She formed small, compact balls in both hands, then aimed them at Murtagh. He dodged all of them easily and tackled her onto the ground, both of them falling in a muddy, tangled heap.

It was an awkward moment as both of them lay next to each other, laughing hard. She kissed him deeply, but quickly recoiled.

"Ew! There's mud in your mouth!" she chuckled, standing up.

"Thanks to you," he followed suit and dusted off debris and mud from his outfit.

"Great. Look at what a mess you made," she grumbled, her heard now dreading at all the laundry she'd have to do later.

"What did you expect? That I'd let you get away with that?" he shrugged.

_Murtagh, you're needed. I'll be there in a minute_, Thorn's voice cut into his conciousness.

_Very well_, Murtagh replied, feeling Thorn's approaching presence.

"I have to leave now. I'll see you at camp tonight. We're going to push for a few leagues today to settle down, since we're behind the rest of the army. I have a feeling the imminent battle is going to be tomorrow, so don't exhaust yourself," he instructed.

"It's not me you need to worry about," she gave him a small smile, strings tugging at her heart.

"You make sure of that," he smiled in return and pecked her on the cheek. Thorn's shadow swept past the forest, and Jeannette looked up to see Thorn's circling silhouette above.

_Enjoying yourself, Murtagh?_ Thorn teased.

_You're just jealous_.

_Don't be ridiculous_.

---

Jeannette slumped on the stool, exhausted. She was now regretting not listening to Murtagh's advice. Settling everyone down for a permanent camp while squeezing in a few leagues for a thousand people in one day was not easy, even with an inadvertent, ephemeral nap on Ricbert's back.

An increasing unease entered Jeannette, which always happens before blood is shed. She also felt like as if something had gone wrong, but no one knew what, so she tried to brush it off. She hadn't seen Murtagh either, but she wasn't surprised.

The sky had grown dark with only a faint luminescence in the horizon from the faint sun. Still, activity inside the camp only grew more fervent. The sheer size of the army astounded her. The Battle of Farthen Dur had also amassed a massive army, but its size was under looked since they couldn't get all their forces out at once, giving the Varden a clear advantage.

She decided to skip supper, since she needed her rest and sleep for tomorrow's arduous, gory tasks, so she decided to go to bed early. Just in the middle of undressing, there came screaming from outside. _What is it now?_ She re- dressed hurriedly as the screams only intensified.

"Someone come quick!" a sob escaped someone's lips. She lifted the flap, and was shocked to see the wrecking havoc. Men were wreathing and thrashing on the ground in pain, and those who weren't injured had trouble keeping them down.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"I don't know," someone answered, desperately trying to prevent the other troop from hurting himself.

"Let me see," she rushed to him, holding her hand to his forehead. Nothing. His pupils were dilated, and held an eerie, deep shade of blue from dearth of oxygen. A frothy foam escaped his white, bloodless lips.

"How long as he been like this?" she demanded.

"Just a moment ago. Maybe-"

"Poison. There's no doubt about it. Spread the word to the generals not to touch the food!" she ordered, dismissing him. He rushed away to warn everyone, leaving her alone to restrain him. She thought fast.

_Bloodroot? No, there's no fever. What blocks oxygen from the lungs? Night Shade? But that can't be easily disguised in food. Mesquite? But that's a rare poison, so there's no way there can be enough quantities to poison an entire army. _

She racked her brain for all the natural poisons she knew, but none of them matched the symptoms.

He coughed up blood clots, some of it brushing Jeannette.

_Could it be it be a combined poison? Mesquite and Schefflera combined? Minimal amounts of Mesquite, with the roots of Schefflera to intensify its effects and kill quicker and cleaner? _

"Jeannette! I figured it out! It's Mesquite and Philodendron!" a voice came from behind, and Jeannette recognized it to be the doctor she formerly apprenticed to.

"Are you sure it's not Mesquite and Schefflera?" she frowned.

"No, because that doesn't kill quickly enough when digested with food, and plus that's a very nasty combination for taste buds," the doctor disagreed. Jeannette stared in horror as the soldier's efforts suddenly slacked, his eyeballs rolled up into his head, and his body began to jerk in erratic spasms. She put her shaking fingers to his wrist, trying to find his pulse. It was there, but it was getting slower and softer.

"What- what's the antidote?" she stammered.

"That's the problem, Jeannette," her voice dropped to a low whisper, "There is none. Well, technically there is, but there's no way we can get it in time to save anybody. The yew can delay its symptoms, but that's in the Hada-"

"There's nothing we can do? Do you expect me to just stand here and watch them die?" Jeannette repeated, shocked.

"We can only make them comfortable, I'm afraid," her head drooped in pity, "Now fetch me chicory and pokeweed in the caravan." When Jeannette didn't move or take her eyes off of the dying man, she added urgently, "Now! There's nothing you can do for him!" Jeannette rushed toward the caravan, grabbing the medicinal kit and returning to her former master.

She grabbed the natural pain relievers and treated as many patients that she could. She saw an unmoving corpse on the ground, and she recognized it to be the same man she had just held in her arms a few minutes ago. She closed his eyelids, but not before those haunting blue eyes bore through her soul in raw accusation. Guilt plagued her, as if she had been the one who gave a touch of hope, and let everyone down to die the most horrible death.

Chaos was everywhere. The night passed in a blur, until she found a hand shaking her shoulder gently.

"Jeannette, you need your rest for tomorrow. There's nothing more you can do for them," Ricbert's growled in a low voice. She sniffed and shook off his hand.

"Jeannette!" He jerked his arm and made her face him. "Go to bed. Now. You've exhausted yourself, but it's really tomorrow when we need your skill." When she just stared at him accusingly, he dragged her arm back to her room.

"Now sleep," he commanded, letting go of her arm and storming out. A wave of helplessness and frustration overcame her. She realized tears of frustration and sorrow were freely running over her cheeks. And after all of that, she could do nothing. Hundreds of men died before her eyes, and perhaps thousands more in that night. All her years of training were swept away as useless. Yet all she could do was watch their bodies wither and their minds be ravaged insane by agony. She screamed and banged her pillow. She hated this feeling of helplessness. She wanted to do something, maybe even kill someone. There was no way she was going to let the witch or wizard who did this go away as if this never happened.

Furious, she exited her room and spotted Ricbert's stallion. She swiped his sword, its weight feeling heavy to her thin arms. Entering her room once again, she took out her medicinal pack and chose the juice of the Caladium. Its roots had remarkable healing attributes, but its juice was a rare poison. If she touched it, she would be fine, since she had the antidote, but someone else were to even brush it, the injury would be fatal. She unsheathed the rapier, then spared precious drops of the rare poison. Its violet color stained the blade, spreading like a disease.

_I avow to slew the person responsible for the suffering and death of everyone who died this night. Their lives will be repented. _

She sheathed the blade and clutched it tightly. Tomorrow would be a fateful day.

_If there's a God out there to allow such monstrosity, I dare you to watch me tomorrow. _

Whew, what an emotional chapter! Okay, next one:

Chapter 9: Bloody Landscape


	9. Bloody Landscape

Some theories I would all like to share with everyone:

"Dreams roiled in Eragon's mind, breeding and living by their own laws. _He watched as a group of people on proud horses approached a lonely river. Many had silver hair and carried tall lances. A strange, fair ship waited for them, shining under a bright moon. The figures slowly boarded the vessel; two of them, taller than the rest, walked arm in arm. Their faces were obscured by cowls, but he could tell that one was a woman. They stood on the deck of the ship and faced the shore. A man stood alone on the pebble beach, the only one who had not boarded the ship. He threw back his head and let out a long, aching cry. As it faded, the ship glided down the river, without a breeze or oars, out into the flat, empty land. The vision clouded, but just before it disappeared, Eragon glimpsed two dragons in the sky_." –Eragon, page 81

My theory: The two leaving are perhaps Eragon and Arya? The one on the shore is possibly Murtagh? After all, it is Eragon's destiny to leave Alagaesia and never return. Just like Orik is making scientific discoveries, perhaps the time of the Riders, magic, and elves are ending and no one believes in magic anymore, just like Lord of the Rings? In Eragon, it says that the time of the Riders will never return, because it has passed. I don't remember where, however. However, the two dragons are problematic. **I believe Arya will become the next Rider and fulfill Eragon's romantic prophecy.** Why? There is no one else who is 'beautiful, wise, and powerful beyond compare' who is of noble birth. Nasuada might match, but technically she's only a rebel's daughter, unless her mother is of some importance. Her eyes and magic are both green, and the dragon is as well. Paolini mentioned in an interview that once the Rider and dragon are connected, the color of the Rider's magic is automatically the color of the dragon. Then, maybe one of the dragons will die... hmm...

"_Listen closely and I will tell you two things. When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa tree. Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls._" –Solembum, Eragon, page 206

Since Murtagh took Zar'roc, he's going to find a new weapon under the roots of the Menoa tree. Then he goes on a quest to find his real name, and gains power by 'going to the rock of Kuthian and speaking his name to open the Vault of Souls'.

"Brom was cursed in a way. It was his wyrd to fail at all of his tasks except one, although through no fault of his own. He was chosen as a Rider, but his dragon was killed. He loved a woman, but it was his affection that was her undoing...

'Brom never mentioned a woman to me,' retorted Eragon.

Angela shrugged carelessly. 'I heard it from one who couldn't have lied..."

My theory is that Brom was Selena's lover. However, as my friend Jes pointed out, he couldn't have impregnated her, so whateva. Obi- Wan wasn't Luke's father either, so I guess it's just some friendly intimation.

I just finished Eragon, but I'll probably have more quotes after reading Eldest.

I REALLY WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU ALL! Again, all of this is only speculation, so debate with me.

Chapter 9: Bloody Landscape

It had been difficult to find and swipe armor that fits her, but she had done it. The oversized metal chains dragged down her muscles, but she knew she was going to need it. She was avoiding Murtagh at the best of her ability, since she knew he would certainly stop her if he knew she was participating in battle. She was puzzled when strange, even painful buzzing entered her head and gave her a headache, but she pushed it away as hard as possible.

_I'll be grateful if I even last a minute on the field._ Her nerves were jittering, but her oath remained clear in her head. Thankfully, she wasn't in the front line, but somewhere in the middle. She had pulled her hair back as far as possible to make herself look like a boy, and had even gone to bound her breasts.

"Oi! Kid! The line's moving!" a voice called. Someone jabbed her back, and she jolted in a spasm. The solid dirt ground was covered with maize scrubs and rare plants. The land was almost tugging at her heart, as if blood had been shed on it in the ancient times, and history was imminently going to repeat itself. It almost seemed like a warning, a beseech. About what, she didn't know.

Her heart pounding, she took her place in the line. She was surrounded on all sides by disheartened troops who had been torn by their families. She knew most of these she would never see again in her life. She was too short, so she had to stand on tip- toe to see anything above someone else's shoulder. She unsheathed her violet blade, checking her pocket for the antidote the tenth time that day.

_Am I totally insane? I'm not going to survive a minute here! I'm not suicidal! What was I thinking? Get me out of here!_

"I- I'm not supposed to be here," she muttered and dashed across the line for an exit. Someone grabbed her collar and pulled her back in position. Chuckles spread through the army.

"None of us are, kid," the same soldier put a hand on her shoulder. She gulped, praying fervently to the same God she had cursed last night.

_Okay, change of plans. Hide behind Murtagh until the battle's over, or fetch a ride on Thorn. Oh God, who am I kidding? They're going to be in the middle of fighting, and won't care less about something as trivial as me._

Suddenly a voice rose above them, saying inane strategies that didn't make any sense whatsoever. Jeannette was too busy biting her fingernails in distress to listen. Whispers spread in waves throughout the army.

"He's insane. There's no way we can..."

"Is he suicidal? The unexperienced militia can't stand in the front..."

Something clicked in Jeannett'e head. _The generals must be poisoned as well._ She cursed at herself for her stupidity. _That was why no leading officer was killed. If I hadn't been so busy fuming my head off, I might have been able to prevent this._ She repeated her curses over and over, but quickly turned to prayers.

The deafening cacophony of an army cheering and screaming nearly blasted through Jeannette's eardrums. The sight of the opposing army stirred the blood in their veins.

_Too bad I'm not feeling it._

They started running for their lives toward their opponent, weapons raised and flags blazing. Jeannette was amazed that she hadn't been stampeded over. She fell behind, and she watched with horror and zeal as the two lines of the armies met in a clash. Panic and fear ravaged her.

_It's too late now. I may as well try my best to stay alive. After all, my blade is poisoned, so that might make me a bit more... err... fearsome?_

After running for what seemed like hours, she spotted the enemy. For a moment she was paralyzed, not knowing what to do.

"Aaahhh!" she screamed, bolting towards a stout man.

_Here goes nothing._

She swung the heavy blade above his head, but he dodged it easily and struck her. With a lighter blade or a bit more practice, she could have defended easily, but the blade was too heavy. It struck her shoulder, and she cried out in pain. He smirked as if she had been nothing more than a joke. He struck again, but this time at her neck. She parried, but he drew another dagger and threw it toward her face.

For a moment, time paused. _Aaaahhhh!_ There was no way she could react in time. Suddenly, she was saved. Another dagger clashed into it with amazing accuracy, and she turned to see a grinning Ricbert. She returned the smile with a relieved, grateful one of her own.

She took advantage of her opponent's distracted state and kicked him in the groins. She stuck her sword through his chest, killing him immediately. He slumped onto the ground, nothing more than a corpse.

The sheer realization of what she just had just done slammed into Jeannette. She had never meant to be a murderer, and now she was. She looked at her blood- stained blade. Was this really the right thing to do?

"Hey, watch out!" Ricbert called, blocking a blow at her legs.

"Thanks, I owe you," she said softly, her voice shaking. Their backs touched as they fought off enemies that came their way.

"So you stole my sword, dressed up as a boy, and made a split- second decision to join the army?" he scoffed skeptically.

"Yeah, don't worry, I'm not insane- I hope," she flushed.

"I hope not, or else we're going to be dead pretty soon," he chuckled. She couldn't believe he could laugh while he's killing people. They fought for what seemed like hours. Her labored breathing became ragged from the continuous fighting without any break, and her languid muscles seemed to be encased in stone from fatigue. It was only the short bursts of adrenaline and panic that kept her alert.

She was covered from head to toe in dozens of bruises and cuts. There was a large slash on her left leg, and it was extremely painful to swing her right arm. Ricbert had no better luck with an oozing cut on his left cheek and a disabled left leg, which limited his mobility.

Suddenly she spotted Urgals. Not only just Urgals, but Kulls. They were three heads taller than her, and twice as wide. Their muscles were a finely toned bronze, covered in dozens of scars, while their hideous faces were covered in scowls.

"Run, Ricbert!" she urged, running in the opposite direction for her life. He still stood there blocking blows from another opponent, oblivious to the approaching threat.

"FOR SHADE'S BLOOD, RUN!" she screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Wha-" he turned his head, and terror filled his face. The Kulls were slaughtering people left and right. The opponent seemed to find new motivation. But it was too late. A Kull was ten steps' away from him with a blood- covered axe. She wanted to scream at her inability to prevent his death. Ricbert knew there was no escaping his fate.

She remembered the accusation that stared through those dilated blue eyes. She remembered his helplessness, his visible agony, and his inescapable fate. And she had simply stood there, not doing a single thing.

Frustration and helplessness flooded her. She was not going to let someone else die in front of her or have another life on her conscience to haunt her for the rest of her life. This time it was different, after all. She knew she could save him, if she only tried.

"Hringräf abr istalrí!" The words had formed from impulse from her lips as her mind unconsciously recalled the spell she had read. Her words contained a hidden power, which soon became apparent. The Kulls and soldiers stood in surprise, anticipation, and dismay, but the next moment, they were engulfed in a violent purple fire.

Ricbert stared in astonishment as the Urgals and soldiers screamed and writhed in agony as the purple fire devoured their insides. They ran around like headless animals, trying to shake off the fire, but to no avail. A man rushed to help another, and soon the contagious fire spread onto his fingertips and consumed his body. In a matter of horrifying moments, their bodies degenerated and turned to gray ash below an untouched armor.

Exhaustion exploded inside Jeannette. Her muscles put up no resistance to gravity, as if they were made of rubber. Her eyelids fluttered, and she struggled to retain consciousness. As she collapsed, her fingers brushed the tip of her poisoned blade. The last thing she remembered was cursing as the toxin immediately entered her skin and spread into her system.

---

Murtagh watched the battle from above Thorn. Their army was quickly closing ground. He silently cursed. If he hadn't been so pre- occupied earlier, things might be otherwise. In the distance, he saw a massive cerulean dragon with dwarf- crafted armor that glittered under the noonday sun. He sensed Eragon's heavy use of magic below and the pain of the soldiers who dared to challenge him.

_At least The Twins are doing a lovely job taking care of the Du Vrangr Gata, because I have more important matters to take care of._

He was growing steadily worried about Jeannette. She might have been poisoned and long dead by now, but he didn't know. He had persistently tried to find and contact her mind earlier, but someone strong was blocking him. He concentrated on finding Jeannette for the tenth time that day, but when he caught a glimpse of her mind, he suddenly lost it.

_Dive down, Thorn. The tide of the war's going to change from here on out._

_Very well. Should I take you directly to Saphira and Eragon?_

Right before Murtagh was about to respond, a shiver racked him at the sense of powerful magic being conjured below.

He stared in astonishment as a circle of purple fire exploded, catching everyone within two dozens steps radius on fire except for two people in the center.

_Thorn, send me down!_

Thorn dove down, his powerful carmine wings catching the wind to smoothen his fall. Murtagh was even more amazed with he intruded into the spellcaster's mind easily and found it to be Jeannette's.

_What is she doing here?_

"Rïsa ach néiat," he commanded, an invisible hand catching her body before she hit the ground. He jumped off the saddle in one swift motion, and landed gratefully near her. He cradled her head in his arms, wondering what in the world just happened.

_She can use magic? Had she known and simply hid this fact from me? How is she even able to use such powerful magic? __Jeannette, you never fail to surprise me._ For even a powerful Rider like him, killing a dozen Urgals and soldiers at once was no easy task, much less for an untrained slave.

_Well, at least I caught you this time, didn't I? _

"She saved your life, didn't she?" he asked her flabbergasted, middle- aged companion.

"Y-yes," he stammered, amazed that the king's greatest asset had come to her rescue. Was she all that important? He wondered what other secrets she kept.

"Take her somewhere safe and protect her with your life. Your orders are to guard her until she wakes up, and then send her to me," he commanded, "Allow me." He extended his left palm towards his injured leg, muttered the spell, and the cut disappeared in a silvery light. Ricbert was beyond words. Murtagh helped him put Jeannette on his back with her arms around his thick neck.

He easily stabbed an Urgal in the chest, and watched as Ricbert and Jeannette disappeared into the chaotic crowd.

_Thorn! It's time to fulfill Galbatorix's orders. I'm afraid we have no choice but to lure Eragon in by killing King Hrothgar._

_But how is Jeannette? _

_She'll be fine, but she's going to be bombarded with questions when she wakes up._

---

Victor was furious. How could a puny boy kill a dozen Kull and soldiers, including his brother? Tears threatened in his green eyes, but he blinked them back. How could he explain to his family and friends back home that he had watched his twin die right before his eyes and did nothing but watch, especially even without a body to bring back? Before the battle, they had made an oath to survive this together, and yet it was discarded uselessly in a matter of seconds...

He watched as the Rider helped the wizard onto another's back, hatred stirring in his heart.

All his life, his twin, his other half, had been by his side. But in a moment, his brother perished, forgotten, like as if his soul had never existed.

_His death will be repented. I'll make sure of that._

He followed the middle- aged man, making sure he slipped through unnoticed. Slowed by the weight of the spellcaster on his back, the soldier disappeared into camp. Victor hid behind a tree, waiting patiently and watching intently.

The man quickly exited the fort, sword raised, pacing the entrance intently. Victor knew the bald man might stand there guarding for hours, but he didn't care. He could wait for days until he could savor his sweet revenge. He clutched his sword tightly, shivers racking his body.

---

Minutes dragged into hours. The battle was still raging like as if it had just started with no sign of a winner. Ricbert still had hope in his comrades.

_After all, today's a day of miracles. Why not keep them coming?_

He paced restlessly, and his muscles urged to join the battle. He couldn't bear to only standing here, watching as a spectator when he had a sword that could save lives. Suddenly he saw a glimpse of a familiar face.

"Son! Sterling!" he waved his arms frantically. His son was too far away to hear him, but he turned slightly as if to look at who had called out his name. His opponent took advantage of this distraction, and disabled his sword. Sterling dodged a few blows, but was cornered with nowhere to go, and no chance to retrieve his weapon. Ricbert rushed to him with a battle cry, face red and furious, his previous duty superseded. He decapitated the enemy with a clean swish, and the head fell on the ground with a thump.

"Father!" They rushed together to pat each other's backs, but the emotion in their eyes told all that was needed to say.

"Let's show these ninnies our combined strength is something to fear!" he cried and parried. Together they slew many enemies with such fierce determination that the comrades around them found new strength and hope.

It took Ricbert quite some time to realize he had abandoned his previous order.

"Wait a moment for me, son. I need to check on something," he panicked inside.

"Hurry." He rushed inside the fort, turning over the flaps. "No!" The room was empty. Jeannette's body left no trace that it was ever here. "Shade's blood, Jeannette, where did you go?"

---

Victor's heart pounded in his ears. He had seized the moment to kidnap the young wizard, and dragged him roughly along the ground. Adrenaline was still pumping in his veins.

He looked behind him at his trail, careful to see that no one was following him. He was deep enough in the forest so that no one would see the execution- or even guess that it happened. He let go of the sorcerer's arms, letting him lay helpless on the dirt ground.

He kicked him in the abdomen, crying out in fury and loathe. This was the man who had killed his twin and didn't give a second thought about it.

He raised the sword over his head, the sun glinting beautifully on its pure steel. He and his twin had fought over this sword, and Victor had won. Once he had taken this step, there was no turning back.

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thump._

He swung it down, aiming for his vulnerable neck...

Once again, it's a cliffhanger! Well, not really much of one, since it's quite obvious Jeannette's not going to die in the next chapter. Ha! Anyway, the next chapter is:

Chapter 10: Hostage

Yeah, pretty much speaks for itself, doesn't it?

Please, everyone remember to debate on my predictions, and answer my questions (if you haven't already)!

I've narrowed the name of the dragon down to Alelda or Lenora, and it's color is probably white.

Oh yeah, and do you guys think I should change the title again? I'm against it, but some people think it's too redundant and pointless.


	10. Hostage

Chapter 1: First Sight

Chapter 2: A New Rider

Chapter 3: Black Magic

Chapter 4: Infatuation

Chapter 5: First Kiss

Chapter 6: Perfect Utopia

Chapter 7: Eternal Scars

Chapter 8: Poisoned Hearts

Chapter 9: Bloody Landscape

Chapter 10: Hostage

Chapter 11: Esterní eom ono (Good Luck)

Chapter 12: Compassion

Chapter 13: Dragon Egg (I need to think of something more creative. Help!)

Chapter 14: Predestination

Chapter 15: Lenora (Name of Dragon)

Chapter 16: Close Encounters

Chapter 17: Premonition

Chapter 18: God is Gracious

Chapter 19: One Might Be Two

Chapter 20: Vluerona

Chapter 21: Playing with Fire

Chapter 22: Pain, Pleasure, and Eternity

Chapter 23: Perils of Transmutation

Chapter 24: Secret Rendezvous

Chapter 25: Encroaching Battle

Chapter 26: Daring Plan

Chapter 27: Reunion

Chapter 28: Shinigami- God of Death

Chapter 29: Preparation

Chapter 30: The Ultimate Battle

Alternate Ending 1: Lessons Learned (Miserable Ending)

Alternate Ending 2: Parody (Not Serious)

Alternate Ending 3: The Bonds That Bind (Happy)

Alternate Ending 4: Plausible, Happy endings with correct IQs

Chapter 31: Reincarnation (Moderately Sad)

Chapter 32: Epilogue (My Favorite Chapter)

This is only a rough overview of the series. I'm probably going to tweak it around, so it's definitely not a concrete decision. I wonder if anyone can make some predictions from this... heh. It'd be interesting to see what you all would come up with.

Should I make a NasuadaMurtagh and EragonArya One Shot sequel to this? Oh god, that would be HILARIOUS! Ha, I think I might do it. Hehehe... just to spite Jeannette.

GO TO YAHOO OR GOOGLE, THEN SEARCH FOR **BOOK THREE ERAGON THEORIES** **SHURTUGAL**! (Damn it, why didn't I find this website before I started writing my series?) They won't allow links, sorry.

1. I agree that Brom is Eragon's father.

2. I agree that Arya is the third Rider.

3. I agree with the boat premonition.

4. I agree that Eragon will be Arya's love interest.

5. I agree that the person who wrote it is _brilliant_. Helgrind, sanctuary of the green egg and Vault of Souls? The third book is shorter than I ever thought...

EVERYONE GO HERE! IF YOU DON'T I WILL ABSOLUTELY KILL YOU! I hate to say 'I told you so', but... some of this is EXTREMELY important for my series, and I will be taking most of its most important theories.

THE GREEN DRAGON HAS NO PART IN MY SERIES! Good, I had to get that out of my system. I could, I suppose, add Arya as the green dragon's Rider. **Anyone think I should?** That would totally change the entire scope of the ending, and it would make my series longer.

Notice that I have four different alternate endings, and one actual ending. Freedom is probably the one that's the most likely to happen if this series was actually real. However, I'm going to manipulate the character's IQ and make them stupid just so I have a more poignant and gothic ending. You can choose whichever ending you like; I don't care, but I'm sticking to the real chapter.

Do you guys think I should make a sequel? If I do, it'd either be with Jeannette's daughter, or with only Jeannette and a DuneEragon crossover. I probably'll update rarely, though, and the plot would get EXTREMELY COMPLICATED. But if I only make a OneShot sequel, no one would understand anything. Aw, well, I guess I just won't write one. DUNE IS AMAZING! It really is an incredible sci- fi series, although I've only read two books so far... trust me, you'll be glad you did.

He swung it down, aiming for his vulnerable neck...

Chapter 10: Hostage

... And missed. His blade was stuck in a soil half an inch from her neck. Victor couldn't do it. Out of the two, he had always been the soft- hearted one, and he couldn't hurt a fly if he tried to. He had always been teased of this when he was little, and it was only his twin that persuaded him to join the army. And even when his brother died, he couldn't bring himself to get revenge.

He collapsed on the ground, sobbing while zealously wiping tears from his emerald eyes. _I'm sorry, brother. I'm such a disgrace..._

He suddenly noticed that the wizard was moving, even writhing. His eyelids fluttered, and his face grimaced in pain. His hands clawed his chest, his breath coming in raspy gasps. _Is he wounded? Or perhaps having difficulty breathing?_ He carefully removed the chain mail on top, and then noticed that his entire chest was bandaged. _So he is wounded! _He checked them for any sign of bleeding, but realized there were not medical bandages, but rather... He took a step back, his hand recoiling from her chest. He blushed deeply in realization and chagrin, trying to preserve her modesty. (Me: I know. PERV! Haha! Yeah, it's just some comical relief between deadly serious and cracking up on the ground. I try to do balance the two; her regretting her decision right after making a vow, and now this after trying to kill her. Paolini should do this as well.)

Questions immediately roiled in his mind. What was a girl doing here, on the battlefield? Why was that man protecting this girl? How can she use magic? Why had a Rider come to her rescue? Were they someone attached to each other? _I suppose I won't learn anything until she wakes up. _

Her labored breathing became more difficult, and suddenly he noticed that veins were starting to turn blue, even purple. Her fingers clenched the soil, as if in pain. He didn't notice any wounds, well, as far as he could see. So why... At least he could take her to the healers. He wouldn't be anything more than a nuisance on the battlefield anyway, especially without his brother.

He picked her up, surprised at how light she was. Without warning, she started thrashing in his arms, vigorously trying to escape his grasp. Panicking, he tried to soothe her, but that just made her kick harder. She fell on the ground with a thump, and a desperate cry came from her lips. Cursing softly, his fingertips brushed her forehead. He immediately withdrew his hand, since her head was as hot as a boiling kettle. Her muscles began to relax as she returned to her fitful coma.

Carefully, he lifted her again, trying not to instigate or rouse her. He broke into a run, avoiding the bloody landscape visible on his right. After getting tired and his chest heaving up and down visibly from continuous panting, he slowed to a brisk walk, weaving his way around the forest. The shouts and clanging of the battle next to him constantly reminded him of the nearby slaughter.

---

Victor was getting impatient. She was dying right now, and no healer could do anything. He wanted to save her, or at least, he didn't want her to die. Perhaps he should turn her over to the enemy, so at least she wouldn't have to continue suffering... but then again, he hadn't tried Eragon Shadeslayer. He rushed to the guards, who blocked his path inside the Rider's tent.

"Please. I need to Eragon Argetlam. It's urgent!" he begged, panicking.

"He is busy, and needs his rest from the battle. Try again tomorrow," he replied gruffly, not caring at all.

"I don't have until tomorrow! Someone is dying right this moment, and he's the only one who can save her!" he explained impatiently, trying to get through. Victor heard two conversing voices approaching the entrance.

"Katrina may be dying right now. She doesn't have until the end of the week," an agitated voice said, and two people exited the tent. Victor stared in awe. The Rider's body and face was flawless pieces of art. Dark brown eyes were surrounded by unmarred, pale skin, while his blonde hair shined under the sun. His ears were pointed, and his muscles hard and sinewy. His elfin appearance made Victor gape, since he had never seen anyone like him before. To his side was a soldier with hard brown eyes and an enraged look with shadows festering his forlorn face. The Rider turned his head to look at the soldier who was gawking at him.

"May I help you?" he inquired with an amused look.

"Yes... um, I have a friend who's poisoned, I believe. The healers are treating her, but they can't do anything. She's dying, so-" he started, finding his voice. Who knew it was this nervous to talk to a Rider?

"Take me there," he automatically responded. Delighted at his reply, he muttered a thanks and turned around awkwardly, nearly tripping on a rock.

"Are you sure it's wise to exhaust yourself in such a state?" Roran asked skeptically.

"I can't leave his friend to die," he turned around and gave a slight wink, "After all, I have a duty to my people."

"We're not done discussing this yet, Eragon. We'll settle this later," Roran said gruffly. Eragon, undeterred, followed Victor to the healer's tent, which was crowded with injured soldiers with busy nurses tending to their wounds. He spotted her crimson hair in a corner, and he rushed over. Her health was steadily deteriorating. Her fever showed no sign of cooling, and sweat was pouring down her face. Black, blue, and purple veins bulged on her neck, face, and arms.

"How did this happen?" Eragon asked, taking a seat on her bed.

"I- I don't know. The healers say she was poisoned," he shrugged, panicking.

"I'll see what I can do," he frowned, and touched her blazing forehead.

---

_Jeannette was losing. The bane had entered her body slowly from her fingers, and soon spread throughout her bloodstream. She tried her best to contain it and stop it from continuing its onslaught, but to no avail. Her main organs were slowing down in reaction to the poison. Her heart beat frantically, sometimes erratically as her sticky blood started to clump. It had defeated her immune system, despite her efforts, and now was moving on to destroying her cells. As she concentrated on saving a few or a group of cells, it would progress farther to another organ._

_In days, perhaps even hours, Jeannette would cease to exist. Suddenly something sent shivers through her from a cool hand on her brow. A warm sensation flooded her, and the plague seemed to paralyze in interest and fear. It seemed to go over her body, observing the damage done. _

_The alien mind seemed to turn in a different direction, trying to contact Jeannette herself. _

An..._ She struggled to bring herself to tell him. He waited patiently, interested in what she had to say. _

Anti... Antidote._ Eragon was struck by amazement. She had been able to talk to him in a coma, without him reaching her first? _

He withdrew his mind from her intoxicated body, regaining his normal body and senses.

"She said something about an antidote. Do you know anything about it?" he asked.

"No, but here're her clothes," he pointed to a rack. He checked its pockets for anything that looked like an antidote, and he found it. It was a small vial filled with a sticky green liquid. How much she needed, he didn't know.

He held open her jaw, then dabbed a bit on her tongue.

_As he was pouring slowly, he re- entered her body. Already he saw the effects of the antidote take place. Her breathing became more even, and she had stopped panicking inside. The toxin seemed to hide and cower in fear like a living animal, avoiding the cure as it reached it._

Eragon once again came out from his temporary state, looking back at the girl before him. She was going to be fine, but how he knew this, he wasn't sure.

Both Eragon and Victor took a moment to really inspect the girl laid down before them, their panic appeased. She was no raving beauty, which was certain. Her face and jaw had a pleasant outline, but the two scars on both cheeks robbed her of her beauty. Eragon also noticed the thinness of her muscles, arms, and legs, which made him grimace in disgust. Victor, on the other hand, was more fascinated than anything else.

"If you don't mind me asking, how are you two related?" Eragon asked, unable to satiate his curiosity. Victor blushed, surprised at the question.

"Uh... she's actually fought for the enemy, but..." he had no idea how to answer and not sound insane.

He raised an eyebrow, still waiting for a response, and repeated incredulously, "She fought for the enemy?"

"It's a long, boring story," he tried to think of a better excuse.

"Well, if I saved her life, I at least deserve to hear the story behind it, correct?"

"I- Very well," he relented, "I was fighting alongside my brother when she shouted some kind of magical spell. He was only ten paces away when incredible purple fire engulfed him, just like it caught fire to every creature close to her, even to Kulls. I watched as everyone around me raved helplessly until they burned into ash. I could do nothing for my twin. A Rider flew down, and ensured her safety with a soldier whose life she saved. I plotted my revenge, but I was unable to carry it out after I found out she was nothing but a mere girl."

"I apologize."

Eragon paused to assimilate what he said in disbelief. He had saved the life of an enemy? And this fragile female could use such powerful magic? And Murtagh had taken the effort to _save _her in the middle of the battle? _This is certainly a situation I've never encountered before._

He looked intently at Victor, and knew he wasn't lying.

"What Rider?" he inquired carefully.

"The one with the red dragon. I also think he healed her wounds, I believe," he answered, recalling his memory. Eragon was once again struck with surprise. _What relationship does she have with Murtagh? Perhaps he's the one who taught her magic? And when he healed her, how could he not have noticed the poison?_ He thought quickly, trying to come up with solutions. _At the very least, I should interrogate her when she wakes up. Considering she owes me her life, she'll probably oblige. Perhaps she's even worth taking hostage. Her powers, however, are problematic. Would it be too much of a risk to keep her?_ A part of Eragon didn't want to take chances. If necessary, he would bind her powers and keep her like a pet. But was it really worth all the trouble? _If she's connected with Murtagh somehow, she might be of value. But if she isn't? _Inwardly, he sighed. _Perhaps Victor should have killed her when he had the chance. _

"Don't allow her to escape. We're taking her hostage, but don't harm her either. When she wakes up, you must call me," he decided smugly.

"Very well. Thank you, Argetlam. But are you sure she won't try to escape the moment I go fetch you?" he concurred.

"Unless she's feigning sleep, she won't have the energy to even sit up. You'll have plenty of time," he answered, and stood up.

"I will be punctual," Victor bowed in respect.

As you can see from above, the next chapter will be:

Chapter 11: Esterní eom ono

I was thinking about combining the two chapters, but I decided you guys deserve a treat. Thank you to all those reviewers out there that made this story worth it! Plus, I have a snow day today, so yay! I'll probably be having an update soon.


	11. Esterní eom ono

Once again, if you didn't look up the book three theories, do so. Search for **shurtugal theories book three**. Isn't it creepy how someone could predict an entire book through suggestive hints?

Chapter 11: Esterní eom ono

Murtagh couldn't believe it. It was a stalemate, but the Empire had superior numbers, armor, weaponry, and technology. Part of him was happy for the other side, but the other half was dreading what punishment Galbatorix was concocting now.

The disheartened groups of soldiers were hardly worth fighting next to. They had no loyalty toward the Empire or its generals, and least to its king.

He had escaped unscathed, but he was probably the only one who did.

"Waise heill," he grunted, healing the cracked wrist on the wincing warrior. The magic was draining him, but thanks to the Vault of Souls, he had an infinite supply of energy.

He had only allowed himself a few precious hours of sleep last night. Most of the soldiers would return home, only to be called again a few months later for further service. Both sides had taken hostages, so there would still be a considerable crowd until the bargaining was complete.

"Argetlam," a nervous voice blurted behind him.

"What is it, Ricbert?" Murtagh asked hastily. Ricbert stood there, looking at the ground guiltily, nervous at how the Rider would react. Would he be punished? Demoted? Tortured?

"I take all blame for the disappearance of Jeannette," he forced himself to say. Murtagh stood, paralyzed, for a moment, glaring at him. Ricbert flinched and looked down at his hands.

"She's missing?" He could feel an imminent headache coming. He could hardly believe it. She was missing before the battle, and now after too! He really needed to remember to pay closer attention to where she was. "Tell me the entire story, and don't bother lying. Riders can tell truth from fiction."

"I-I got sidetracked during the battle, sir. When I returned, perhaps in the afternoon, her body was gone," he gulped, "Sir." _Just what I needed. Another incompetent soldier. I can't even assign him the simplest of tasks.._

"Who do you think may have taken her?" he asked, trying to contain his annoyance and rage.

"I don't know, sir," he shrugged. _A lot of help you are. Perhaps Jeannette should have let the Kull decapitate you after all. _A new idea struck him. _I could scry her! Of course! Why didn't I think of it before? _

"Report to me if you find any clues," he ordered, dismissing him. Ricbert couldn't believe it. He wasn't going to do anything? He was about to thank him, but he quickly cut him off.

"Don't think you're getting away," Murtagh glared. He nodded vigorously and scampered like a mouse. Murtagh entered his tent, and grabbed his basin of water.

"Draumr Kópa" he muttered, calling upon magic by breaking the barrier in his mind. For a moment, nothing happened, and Murtagh doubted his abilities for a second. Then the water wavered, and the blurry outline of a person appeared. For a second it focused, but suddenly the vision faded into darkness. Murtagh blinked in surprise, saying the magical words again. There was only blackness. _Shade's blood, what's wrong?_ He tried scrying the hallow- headed Ricbert, and he saw him fetching his brown stallion with a frown while conversing with his ecstatic son. _If it's not my abilities, then what could it be?_ There were trinkets and baubles that were cast with magic that blocked scrying, which both Murtagh and Eragon bore, but how could Jeannette possess one? It didn't make any sense. He cursed under his breath while his brain couldn't help but imagine the worst scenarios Jeannette was in.

---

Jeannette's entire body ached. Her bones were weary, her muscles languid, and immune system weak, nearly obliterated. Thanks to the antidote, her body was recuperating quickly.

She fluttered her eyelids, trying to come out of her coma. _I need to find out what happened. Did we win? Lose? How are Murtagh and Ricbert?_

Although her body protested, she opened her eyelids, and stirred from her slumber. Yawning fiercely, she sat up on the bed. Immediately panic racked her. Nurses and doctors rushed to treat the wartime patients, but it wasn't the infirmary she was used to seeing. _These are the enemy's..._

"You're awake," a young man noted. Locks of brown hair hang loosely over bright, soft emerald eyes. He was cute, but he didn't have the affinity or presence of Murtagh. _Murtagh! Where is he?_

"Where am I?" she blinked.

"The Varden's infirmary," he answered automatically.

"How did I get here? Who was the one who contacted me and saved my life earlier? Was it you?" she fired quickly.

"No, it was the Shadeslayer who saved you. I was the one who fetched him though. I-"

"Thank you," she said, bemused but surprisingly sincere.

"It's Eragon you should thank," he shrugged, blushing lightly at her response and under her electric amethyst gaze that seemed to expose his guilt. "I need to tell him that you're awake. Don't even think about escaping with those witchy powers," he threatened.

"Feh, you couldn't stop me if you tried," she bluffed. In truth, she had no idea what had happened. His face got hot.

"Eragon will," he riposted.

"I doubt he'll care about a nobody about me."

"You killed all those Urgals and men, including my brother. You call yourself a nobody?" he raised an eyebrow in irritation and anger.

"I'm sorry," she blinked, taken back by his sudden reaction. Victor stood up silently, filled with bitter sorrow.

"Why didn't you kill me then? You had your chance, instead of saving my life." He shrugged, uncertain.

"I don't want to be a murderer, least for a little girl like you. I'm going now," he turned and walked away, despite Jeannette's protests. Jeannette was trying to stall for time before he fetched Eragon, racking her head for a plan.

Her body protested in pain at every slight movement, and she doubted she could even stand up without collapsing immediately. If she couldn't run physically, perhaps she could try magically, but then again she was discouraged. It would drain far too much of her much- needed energy. So what options were left? Perhaps she could contact Murtagh and ask him to rescue her? _Oh please. I'm not a damsel in distress. I can get through this just fine._

She was running out of time. Perhaps this dreaded Rider would even go through her memories- there was no telling what he might do. And then even worse, use her against Murtagh. How could she explain her magical abilities? She was quite sure the Rider could tell she was lying. The best, she decided, would simply to keep her mouth shut and take her chances.

A part of her smiled. Eragon had saved the life of an enemy, knowing it or not, so obviously he wasn't evil like Galbatorix. _Galbatorix. It feels good to be out of his clutches._ However, not being under Galbatorix's domain also meant separation from Murtagh- a thought that made her squirm.

The red- haired casualty observed intently as the Rider swept across the room with a grace no human could emulate. For a moment his beauty, his presence, and his aura captivated her. His face was perfect- without a single scar or mar.

In retaliation, another side of Jeannette stared in disgust. He looked too perfect, too inhuman to be true. His body told no story, being as clean as a newborn babe. His elfin appearance took away his singularity, his personality, and the essence of what made him him. Jeannette wore her scars proudly, and she had accepted them. Even given the chance, she wouldn't give them up, since they were a proof of the hardships she had to endure.

"My name is Eragon Shadeslayer. And you are?" he asked, condescending to her level.

"Jeannette," she answered quickly. He nodded slowly, as if he was having trouble processing this under her beady violet gaze.

"Don't try to escape, Jeannette, because I will catch up and punish you." She didn't reply, but instead withdrew her legs closer to her chest. "I've taken quite an interest with you." _Purple eyes, crimson hair... how odd._

"Thank you for saving me," she blurted out.

"Your welcome," he blinked, surprised at her suddenly outburst, "How were you poisoned?"

"Someone's blade," she muttered. _It's not a lie... except for the fact that 'someone' is actually me._ To her surprise, Eragon gave a soft chuckle. _Foolish girl doesn't realize that I can read her mind. But if she really was being taught magic from Murtagh, he would surely teach her to block her mind._ He frowned, now uncertain.

"How were you able to use magic?" he inquired.

"I don't know," she replied quickly. _Surprisingly enough, she's not lying_, Eragon observed, intrigued.

"Do you remember what words you used?" She furrowed her eyebrows, recalling the long moment.

"I think it was Hringräf abr istalrí," she replied, "Why?" He was surprised. To create a ring of real, blazing fire, the spell was Hringr abr brisingr, but she seemed to tweak it around to create a spell of her own.

"Where did you learn the words?"

"Learn? I didn't learn from anybody. It came from impulse," she said cryptically.

"If you don't provide me with enough information, Jeannette, I may have to force myself into your memories, but I'm offering you a better alternative. I suggest you take it," he said impatiently.

"What do you want to know?"

"How are you related to Murtagh?"

"I was his slave for a short period, nothing more."

"And he taught you magic?"

"Feh, the most he ever taught me is that he allows his clothes to be soaked hopelessly in blood before he shows it to me," she snorted. _She's obviously close to him, or it's simply one- sided affection, not unlike the situation between Arya and me._

"We're taking you hostage for now, and if you try to escape, I'll have no choice but to bind your powers. Victor'll be in charge of you," he decided. _Of course, blackmail_, she thought, not in the least bit surprised.

"Me?" he squeaked.

"Yes, you. You're in charge of bringing her to Surda safely. I'm afraid I won't be accompanying you," he stood up. _Then how will you be binding my powers?_

"Where are you going?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"It doesn't concern you," he snapped coldly.

"Forgive me for asking, but I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with your cousin, Roran Stronghammer. Are you really going to Helgrind in Dras- Leona to kill the Ra'zac?" Victor asked hesitantly.

He bit his lip, but decided to answer, "Yes. It's something I must do. Both of us have suffered much because of them," he nodded. She liked this Rider, well at least more than the first time she met Murtagh. She also wanted to properly show her respects and thanks for saving her life.

She turned to put her feet on the ground, but suddenly a wave of pain flooded her, and she fell off the bed, paralyzed. Just before she crashed on the ground, Eragon caught her in his arms, and for an awkward moment they just stared at each other. They blushed, and turned their faces away.

Just before Eragon let go of his soft caress, she blurted out, "Esterní eom ono." Her words held a certain gravity and power within them. Jeannette was washed by a wave of sudden enervation, and she fell into Eragon's arms securely. Eragon's beautiful, distinct features blurred, and her body went slack...

---

_She fainted again?_ It felt extremely awkward to hold a female in his arms, especially one that he had just met. A heat rose in his cheeks, and a strange feeling appeared inside him that he had often associated with Arya. He laid her on the bed, his insides tingling. _Esterní eom ono means good luck. Obviously her magical abilities are not as limited as she makes them seem._

"Is she all right?" Victor asked, concerned.

"She will be. Don't let her escape- there's a lot more I want to ask her when I meet her again in Surda," he ordered.

"Yes, Argetlam. I can rely on me," he nodded in obligation. _Let's hope so. If I can bring Jeannette on our side, she could make a powerful ally with her magic. She wasn't lying when she said she was a slave, but yet her magical abilities were clear. _He doubted anyone would ransom for her.

Yup, everyone liked Eragon? I hope so! I'm still thinking about making Arya the fourth Rider... I think I will. Hmm... I think this'll work out.

Next Chapter: Chapter 11: Compassion

Yup, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! The appearance of the cryptic dragon egg is in the next chapter!


	12. Bittersweet Irony

Everyone who has stories should post them on Shur'tugal Fanfiction! Trust me, you'll be glad you did.

And as with the night shower, it was a symbol of change, but whatever. No one cares.

Sorry this is one is a bit short. Enjoy!

Chapter 12: Bittersweet Irony

Victor glared at Jeannette suspiciously from the corner of his eye. She was lending a helping hand by packing up and preparing to return to Cithrí, only two days away. She helped willingly, as if she was one of them. This puzzled him greatly. She showed no resentment or animosity towards her enemy, and never once used magic. _What is she up to?_ Victor doubted she was truly sincere about helping the side that kidnapped her, and later saved her life (ironically.) _But then again, that Rider would have healed her if I hadn't kidnapped her._

"Who's inside that wagon?" she inquired. The people around her tensed, reluctant to respond. "Okay then, don't answer me," she muttered under her breath. She grabbed the reins of the horse, and the rusty hinges of the wagon creaked in response. Victor secured his sheathe to his side, comforted by its familiar weight.

On the way to Cithrí, they briefly entered a scattered, thin forest. He could feel the heat radiated from the noonday sun on his tanned skin. Soon it would be summer, a season Victor dreaded. Waves of heat would make his clothes stick to his sweaty skin, and mosquitoes would sting at every inch of exposed skin. Soon his skin would be red, sunburned, and covered in itchy welts. The days were lengthened, and the sun rose higher in the sky everyday.

He sighed, dread clawing at his belly at the prospect of explaining his brother's death. Questions would be asked, tears wept, and gossip told. Lies of a noble end were already forming in his mind.

Jeannette dragged the reins lackadaisically, oblivious to Victor's troubles. Her mind was lost in thought, contemplating her future actions and plans.

_I'm surprised that Murtagh hasn't tried to contact me yet. If he knows where I am by scrying, why hasn't he tried to rescue, or at least ransom me? Others have been. So why..._

She gave an ephemeral side-glance at Victor, who was humming softly and daydreaming, glassy- eyed. _He's sweet and everything, but physically, he could easily overpower me. If I could control my magic, I'd be long gone by now. Or perhaps I'm more valuable to Murtagh here. I could earn their trust and respect while secretly spying on them. But how would I contact him? I don't know how to do so with magic, unless I could report to someone who could then report to him? But how... _She was pondered on the thought of creating a web of spies. But nothing was possible until she had some means of communication. He would know what to do.

_Perhaps I could ask Eragon to teach me magic if he has the time. He'd probably be eager to get a powerful, loyal ally shaped by his own hands. But then could he suspect my true intentions? I'm surprised he hasn't probed my mind yet. That's probably because he doesn't consider me a threat._

She considered herself loyal to Murtagh, but certainly not to the king. She sighed and arched her neck upwards to spot a black raven cawing and trees blowing from the light breeze. Suddenly a heat rose in her pocket. Alarmed, she touched it to see the key with the fat amethyst. She gaped when she realized that it was burning hot, and the amethyst was _glowing_. This had never happened before, and Jeannette had no idea what this meant. Frowning, she slipped it back into her pocket, not giving it a second thought.

She covered a yawn with the back of her hand, and then glanced behind to see how many people were following her. She heard the distant pounding of hooves, the screams from people, and neighing from horses. The people made way for two magnificent stallions pulling a decorated, painted carriage.

"Mother, I'm hungry and tired," a boy whined, rubbing his eyes. He was standing in the middle of the dirt road, oblivious to the fact that a carriage was about to stampede over him. _How can he not notice that everyone else is on the side of the road?_ She opened her mouth to warn him, but she knew it would be too late then. He turned around to face the incoming carriage, and his face twisted in shock and fear.

"Lorne!" his mother cried, just noticing the imminent event. Cursing, Jeannette sprinted toward the child and shoved him into his mother's arms. She could see the whites in the horses' eyes. Just in time, she jumped out of the way, rolling off the road and down the hill. She wasn't sure what happened next, but the next thing she knew, she found herself sprawled on the grassy ground. She coughed out a mouthful of dirt, and her back hurt from the tumble. Dazed, she stood up, cursing under her breath.

"Ow!" she cried when a sharp pain went up her leg from her twisted ankle. It was swollen, but it wasn't a serious injury. She could still walk, but it would slow her progress and force her to ride a horse for a portion of the traveling. Her tunic and pants were ripped, revealing dozens of bruises and cuts. She tried to take a step, but it was painful. She had fallen into a ravine from a rocky outcrop above. She could hardly believe her luck. Half a dozen steps to her right was a sharp precipice that fell further and further down the ravine. If she had dropped there... she shivered at the prospect of what would become of her.

She snatched her backpack from the ground and fastened it across her shoulders. Suddenly she noticed a brown outcrop between the dirt and rocks. It was oval in shape, but most of it was still stuck in the soil. She dug out the dirt using her fingers, dirt filling her nails. At last it went free, and she stared incredulously at the object in her arms. It looked like a stone, but she doubted it. Its surface was too smooth and flawless, hidden underneath layers of dirt and grime. Although it was still quite heavy, it didn't have the proper weight a stone should have. Intrigued, she felt attached to it, unwilling to part with it. Part of her was disgusted at her irrationality. Still, she ignored the pestering voice of reason in her head and settled it in her pack, which now bulged outward.

"Jeannette, are you all right?" Victor's head popped from above.

"Aye. I sprained my ankle, but I'll be fine," she shouted. She climbed up the outcrop, using the numerous trees and rocks as footholds and handholds. Their hands clasped as he helped her back onto the trail.

"Thank you, thank you so much," the mother rushed toward Jeannette, her voice heavy with relief and gratitude. As their eyes met, however, they gasped.

"Jeannette?"

"Lyla?" The two friends gaped at each other, their brains refusing to assimilate the sight. Lyla's hair had grown past her waist, she had put on quite a few pounds since their last meeting, and wrinkles started to show on her worn face.

"Jeannette, what happened to you? How did you get here?" she bombarded her with questions, her fingers trailing on Jeannette's scar.

"I- I was taken hostage during the battle," she answered succinctly, her mind still skeptical at whether this was really the Lyla she remembered.

"You participated in the battle? I can't believe you-" she shouted incredulously, and people turned their heads to find out what this commotion was all about.

"Shhh," Jeannette shushed.

"Yes, I was, okay? Victor here kidnapped me," she nudged Victor in the ribs.

"You knew her? And you never told me?" Lyla screamed at him.

"How did I know you guys were acquainted?" he shrugged uncomfortably.

"How do you know Victor?"

"We're engaged!" she laughed out loud, flashing a gold ring before Jeannette's eyes. Jeannette's jaw dropped to the ground. _So that's why she was following me the entire time. Well, makes sense. I've been so lost in thought that I didn't even notice them together!_

"Back up there. What happened to you after you disappeared?" Jeannette inquired.

"It's a long story. Come," she grabbed Jeannette's wrist and smacked the rear of the horse, which whinnied and started a brisk walk.

"This is my son, Lorne. Lorne, meet your mother's dearest friend, Jeannette," she introduced. The squeamish child was no more than four years old with shady hazel eyes and ruggedly cut ebony hair. He huddled behind his mother's skirt, pulling on its hems.

"You're a mother, Lyla? How did this happen?" she gasped in amazement, a grin spreading.

"Do you remember the hostage who was courting me?"

"Courting? Flirting, more like. But yes, go on."

"He was actually a spy for the Varden, and he asked me to come with him," a morose feeling entered her dark eyes, "After an eventful journey, we arrived at Surda. Secretly, we had a forbidden affair, before I learned that he was married to another woman." Jeannette flinched inside, but refused to show it. "He left me to reclaim her, and then I learned that I was pregnant with another life inside of me."

"I apologize."

"It's not your fault. Perhaps I should have listened to you," she shrugged, "I'm over it."

"Oh Lyla." Jeannette gave a look of admiration and sympathy for her older friend and put a hand on her shoulder.

"I can't believe you're still alive, and we've met again after all these years!" Lyla hugged the younger hostage fiercely, tears nearly springing to her eyes. Victor just stared at them awkwardly, his hands in his pockets.

The day passed quickly. They chatted the entire time, trading stories and laughs. After all, they had years of memories to catch up on. By the end of the day, they were exhausted and content beyond words.

The sky was an open expanse of midnight blue. The tranquil chirping of tree frogs and crickets sang Jeannette to sleep, rolled in a ball under soft covers illuminated by a blazing fire. On the cart inside a backpack came a steady, high- pitched peeping. The egg shook violently, rocking continuously until its noises and movement ceased. A crack appeared on the bottom of the shell, but for the rest of the night, everything was quiet.

Next chapter: Predestination

Jeannette's future is told by Angela in the next chapter. Stay tuned!


	13. Predestination

Someone guessed a huge revelation already. Not on this website, so don't go through searching every review. But yeah, it was about time someone guessed. I've written so many clues.

**"The surest way to keep a secret is to make people believe they already know the answer."** –House Atreides, pg. 438.

I think I will make a sequel, actually, many sequels. Yes...

Chapter 13: Predestination

They had arrived at Cithrí a day early.

"I insist that you stay with us," Lyla alleged, her chin held high. Jeannette bit her lip, not wanting to offend her nor disappoint her. Murtagh's pale face appeared in her head, as if challenging her loyalty.

"Oh goodness, foolish girl. Can't you taste the bittersweet freedom? Or would you rather be bound by shackles for the rest of your life? Forget your past life of slavery. Start a new life here in Surda. Look at what I have accomplished. You will stay with us until you find a steady, respectable occupation and acceptable quarters," her straight face and striking eyes bore through Jeannette, skeptical at her reluctance. Her words shone with rationality and common sense, and it was a lenient offer. _I must be crazy to turn her down._

"I'll consider it," she nodded slowly.

"I know it's a huge decision. I don't expect an answer right away, but be prompt," she replied, undeterred. But no matter how she tried to persuade herself, she could not bring herself to betray Murtagh.

"We're here," she announced, dismounting from her steed. She lifted Lorne from the saddle, who sneezed twice and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

"Lorne! No! You've caught a cold again?" The boy sniffed helplessly in reply. "Victor! Go to Angela's and get whatever cures a common cold! And don't forget to bargain! Her herbs aren't worth half of what she charges," she ordered. Victor bowed his head in compliance. It was clear who ran the household.

"It's okay. I'll do it. I think I saw her on the way here," Jeannette offered.

"Are you sure you know the way?" she raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I-"

"Victor, you accompany her and show her the way. We also need fresh food to replenish our stores from our trip. I could also use some new, clean sheets. And don't get me that filthy lime green tablecloth either. I don't care how thrifty it is, I'll tell you why it's on sale: the color couldn't be more horrendous..." she rambled on fastidiously, elaborating even the simplest instructions as if Victor didn't have a brain of his own. She tilted her head to see Victor rolling his eyes, but careful not to show his fiancé. A dab of sympathy struck her, but then again, he was probably long used to this. She handed Jeannette a pouch of dangling coins.

"Return in time for dinner." After splitting the money and chores, they left for the market square. An awkward, uncomfortable silence descended upon them, and neither attempted to initiate a conversation.

After finally arriving at the bustling plaza, Jeannette stared in awe. Everywhere she looked, people were running, bargaining, and shouting. Aromas of exotic fruit, flowers, and fruit could not cover the distinct stench of fish. A nearby child squealed with delight as his parent bought him a large lollypop. A man with a bushy beard pounded his fist on the table, outraged at the high prices. Despite the fervent activity, she noticed that all the adults- even women- carried some kind of weapon or another. An elegant noble swept the street with grace, her ladies- in- waiting fanning her fanatically.

A stone fountain glittered majestically in the midst of the plaza, its cascading waters creating a cacophony of splashes.

"I'll meet you here at four. Don't get lost, and remember to be cautious," he ordered, dismissing the possibility that she may seize this chance to escape.

"I'll be punctual," she assured. She watched as he disappeared into the crowd, and sighed. She leaned on the side of the fountain and closed her eyes. She let herself immerse the cacophony of meaningless noises, and the rest of the world seemed so far away. The splashing washed away her worries and dilemmas, and for a moment she was filled with unadulterated contentment and tranquility.

Too bad it had to be ruined the next moment. (To make up for her Mary- Sue 'saving the kid' act...)

Before she knew what happened, her head plunged headfirst into the freezing water, her vision becoming a blur of blue lines. Choking, she sat up, wiping the water from her eyes and face. She grew a boiling scarlet as she realized she had been the target of a juvenile prank. Her face burned with chagrin as chuckles and snickers spread throughout the crowd.

She climbed out of the fountain, tears of mortification threatening. She cursed a series of obscenities under her breath. A younger boy looked at her with a huge smirk, and when she glared back, he scampered for his life.

She would catch a cold if she didn't change soon. Shivering, she caught a glimpse of the sign, 'Angela's Herb Shop'. She ran inside, and noticed how the air inside was surprisingly chilly. An eerie vibe in the air caused Jeannette slight malaise. _Magic._ Scrolls and rocks littered the desks, and jars and unidentifiable objects covered the numerous shelves.

Something tickled her leg. She looked down to see a scampering yellow cat with orange stripes. Sometimes about him was not ordinary, whether it was his bewitching carmine eyes that contained hidden intelligence, oversized paws with lengthened nails, or fangs that reached the bottom of his jaw, she didn't know.

"Welcome to Angela's. May I help you?" a sharp voice said, and she turned to face a short, brown- haired woman adorned with the strangest clothes.

"Do you have a change of clothes?" she requested, the carpet becoming wet.

"Do I look like a seamstress to you?" she cocked an eyebrow, somewhat annoyed.

"No, but-"

"Then why're you here?" she interrupted, dismissing her with the back of her hand.

"Then perhaps you have some kind of treatment for a common cold?"

"Ah, that I have. Hmm, mild or severe?" she tapped her pink fingernails on the shelves, her eyes wandering.

"It's for a four- year- old boy, so mild please," Jeannette replied.

"Fever or no?"

"I don't think so."

"That'll be 10 crowns, please," she tossed her a pouch of herbs.

"10 crowns?" Jeannette repeated, incredulous. _10 crowns could feed a ravenous mouth for a week! _

"Two," she offered.

"Eight," she rolled her eyes.

"Three. This isn't even worth it. I'm going to try a different healer down the street. You keep your herbs." Just when Jeannette slammed the pouch on the table, Angela quickly agreed.

"There's Echinacea with goldenseal, together a powerful combination that'll-"

"I know what it does. There's garlic and licorice in this too, right?" she cut the herbalist off rudely, sniffing the pouch.

"Aren't you the smartaleck. Aye, use the hyssop with tea," she snapped.

"Thank you." Suddenly she noticed various poisons in jars on a shelf in the corner, and among them she recognized Mesquite and Philodendron. She shook in contained rage at the revelation.

"_You_ are the one who poisoned the army," she indicted through clenched teeth. Hatred and anger reawakened inside her, and her fists clamped so tightly that her fingernails cut into her skin.

"Do I know-" Before Angela could finish her sentence, Jeannette pounced on her in rage, her hands clenched around her neck. She screamed in shock, hitting the wall from Jeannette's sudden onslaught.

"You... will... pay..." Jeannette muttered, releasing all of her fury and abhorrence. She dedicated her full attention to suffocating the woman to death.

_Finally Angela's getting what's long overdue._ Jeannette hesitated for a second, distracted by the voice, but that was all Angela needed to slap Jeannette on the side of her head, and she fell on the ground, dazed.

Angela caught her breath, clenching a table. "Well, obviously we're not getting off to the best start."

"I... I thought I heard a voice somewhere," Jeannette muttered. The cat jumped off the table onto Angela's shoulder and began purring.

"Very well, Solembum. I suppose I should forgive her foolishness the first time," Angela decided, her beady eyes furious. _She's talking to her cat?_

_You think I'm an ordinary cat?_ Jeannette gaped, staring at the intelligent ruby eyes.

_You... can talk? _

_What is the world coming to these days?_ She desperately tried to cling to her sanity, repeating to herself that there was no such thing as talking cats. As if he was offended, he leaped from her shoulder onto the ground, its tail raised high as he primly sauntered away.

"I swear that thing just jabbered at me," Jeannette pointed a finger skeptically.

"Solembum talked to you? What's your name?" she asked curiously, her irritation forgotten.

"Jeannette. What does it matter to you?" she stood up, brushing the dirt from her wet skirt.

Ignoring her attitude, she took a seat on a high stool. "Jeannette, would you like me to tell you your fortune?"

"Oh please. With what? Plastic cards and glass balls? You're crazier than I thought," Jeannette spat, picking up her pouch and throwing three coins towards Angela's head. Catching them easily, she removed a few items from the drawer. _Dragon knuckles._

"Those are just for show. But these- these have real power," she held them in her hand tantalizingly.

"Feh, I'm not foolish enough to fall for this lame joke, you charlatan. You'll probably charge me a hundred crowns later. Have a nice day, murderer," she grabbed the pouch and angrily strode out of the room.

Angela looked down, undeterred. "_Manin! Hugin! Wyrda!_" She threw the knuckles on the desk and observed closely as the bones rearranged themselves. She furrowed her eyebrows in concentration. Her future wasn't as complicated as Eragon's, but was surprisingly similar. There were many possible futures, but only one led to bliss. There would be many choices and adventures in store for her, but that went without saying. Some parts were clearer than others- among them the rose thorn, blade, and horizon. The rose thorn represented romantic conflict in her later life. Whether it would end blissfully or tragically Angela couldn't tell. And then the horizon meant revelation. Soon she would be struck by a clandestine she would never expect. Angela bowed her head in pity and grief at the last symbol. The message was clear: Jeannette's time on earth was already limited, even though she had no idea. The blade was the most terrible of all omens- a shortened life.

Suddenly, Angela noticed a hidden symbol. She tilted her head to make it out better. _Is it the phantom, the omen for a reincarnation? _ She stopped to gasp in amazement, a pestering buzzing entered her head. The bones were _moving_. They rearranged themselves in a chaotic pattern with no distinguishable symbols. As if in frustration and uncertainty, it started moving erratically in all directions. Angela screamed as the dragon knuckles exploded, spitting into the air like cannonballs. She waited for her blood pressure to lower before bringing her head back up and surveying the damage. Shivers racked her body at the loss of the magical object. Her mind couldn't comprehend what this horrible omen may mean.

_Who are you, Jeannette? And what is it about you that..._ Angela noticed Solembum's purring behind her.

"You knew this would happen, didn't you?" Angela said, still shaken. He just stared back with solemn garnet eyes.

---

Jeannette collapsed onto the bed, resting her sore muscles. She stared at the ceiling, reminiscing today's events. That cat had been extremely peculiar, and Angela was nothing more than unbearably irritating. She was now regretting not letting Angela telling her fortune. _Aw well. Too late now._

She closed her eyes, the lull of sleep seizing her. Her mind went blank, and her body was relaxed and tranquil. She felt the trickles of sleep come...

Something or someone chirped. She groaned as she woke up groggily. There came another peep, and another. _This is ridiculous_. Reluctantly, she coerced herself to find the source of the twitters. She removed the stone from nearby the fireplace. Alarmed to see a crack over it, she turned it over more carefully. There was a crack at its side, and it looked ancient, as if it had been that way for years upon years. She was surprised she never noticed it before.

It started to shake violently, rocking like crazy. She dropped it by impulse, and there came a loud _crack_ as the egg smashed open.

Next chapter:

Chapter 14: Lenora

I hope you all enjoyed the fortune- telling.


	14. Lenora

In reply to mbl and Kiba-ish, the next chapter will be dedicated entirely to Murtagh. However, he isn't important until chapter 24, since Eragon replaces him for a while. You'll probably see him in chapter 15, 24, 26-27, and the last few chapters.

As with the Mary- Sue... sorry! Really! I didn't know about Sue until after I created her! Don't worry, I take care of the problem, but it isn't totally lucid until the sequel. YES, SEQUEL! I'm planning on writing a MurtaghNasuada, EragonArya, and KatrinaRoran OneShot sequel. I could write it now or later. **Do you guys want me to publish it now?** I'm also going to write a trilogy, where this is the first book. The second will once again be in Algaesia, and the last book will be a crossover with Dune and XXXHolic (maybe). Assuming I ever get to those, which I doubt.

I wrote 35,000 words in one month... wow, and I didn't even notice.

I decided not to make Arya a Rider. Sorry.

**"We all live in the shadows of our predecessors for a time. But we who determine the fate of planets eventually reach the point at which we become not the shadows, but the light itself." **– Dune: House Atreides

Chapter 14: Lenora

A head poked from the cracked shell, and the hatchling spread her wings, splitting the rest of the egg. She licked the silvery membrane from her bistre scales with difficulty since the casing persistently glued to her like a tightly spun spider web. Her scales were neither scintillating nor beautiful, but rather an insipid dark umber the color of slick mud. She squealed and grunted as her head bumped into the mahogany chair. (Note from Author: Why didn't she make Lenora a beautiful pink dragon, rather than ugly brown? And I thought the dragon was going to be white? Because in my opinion, all dragons are Mary-Sue. They're so noble and dedicated that it makes me gag. Thus, I will prove that not all dragons are gorgeous, worth lauding, astute, fierce, intrepid, omnipotent, etc. From here on out, I am going to polarize Lenora's traits from the rest of the dragons just to make my point. Don't worry, RainbowAurora, the dragon'll turn white eventually.)

_You can't be serious..._ Jeannette could have fainted from shock. _I was carrying an egg with me the entire time? And it hatched for me? Fabulous. Won't Murtagh be thrilled._

She looked so fragile and delicate with an elongated curving neck and thin wings. Evenly spaced ivory spikes grew from her skull to the tip of her tail. Jeannette condescended to the dragon's intelligent sepia eyes. The fledging dragon tilted her triangular auburn head and took her first few steps toward her Rider. To Jeannette's horrible revelation, she noticed that the dragon was _limping_. The reason was apparent: her left foreleg was mutilated, being nothing more than a short, scabbed stump. _That must be from the crack in the egg! It must have injured the fetus dragon inside._

"You poor thing," she reached out to touch the wound. She gave a blood- curdling scream. A freezing energy inundated from her right hand, spreading like fire in her veins. For a second, she was suspended in total agony as if her bones were on fire. The next moment, the pain swept away as sudden as it came, leaving her entire body shivering and numb.

"Jeannette, are you-" Lyla cried in concern as she opened the door, staring and paralyzed in shock.

Jeannette, glassy- eyed, stared at her paralyzed hand dumbly. She touched her sizzling skin as it formed a silvery whirlpool on her palm. It smarted and itched like a mosquito bite.

The russet fledging nipped at her palm apologetically, and then their gazes clashed in an effusion of mixed emotions.

"Jeannette, I can hardly wait for the explanation for why a baby dragon is walking around in my house!" Lyla exclaimed in disbelief. _You just had to ruin our bonding moment, didn't you?_

She lifted the dragon from the ground and they initiated a staring competition. After a few awkward moments of silence, there came a gentle _hiss_.

Jeannette screamed in revulsion and immediately dropped the dragon on the table. "I can't believe- she-" she muttered in fitful irritation at the damp spot on her chest, "pissed on me!" Lyla broke out laughing, enjoying the incredulous look on her former pupil.

"Ugh, that's nasty," she gritted her teeth and twitched her eyebrows at the cowering dragon.

"That dragon looks famished. Victor! Fetch me meat!" Lyla ordered. There came a groan and shuffling of feet from behind the door.

"Well, looks we are going to get along just fine, aren't we?" Jeannette cradled the hatchling in her arms.

"So, care to explain how this happened?"

"It's a long story."

"I've got plenty of time. Hurry up, Victor!" She gave a brief summary of how she found it buried deep in the dirt and how it hatched.

"Well, looks like Algaesia's got a new Rider, eh? Or, more specifically, the Varden," Lyla's wry lips twisted into a bitter smile. She bit her lip in uncertainty. Sooner or later, she would have to choose which side she was going to fight- or even die for. _Murtagh or Eragon? Lyla or Alanis? _

_Your mother or father? _(Once again, a HUGE hint!)

The voice came from nowhere, and so Jeannette decided it was just a figment of her imagination.

"Aye," she lied.

"Aren't you thrilled? Think! You're a Rider! How many people in this world get such a chance? You're going to be a hero and your legacy will be sung by the greatest bards in all time!" Despite the dissonant emotions tearing at her insides, she coerced her lips to curve in a smile.

"I thought you were on a diet, Lyla," Victor's head popped in with a slab of rabbit meat.

Ignoring him, she tossed the chunk at Jeannette, but she didn't need to catch it. The young dragon pounced from Jeannette's arms and its jaw snapped in the precise moment to devour the meat, landing gratefully with outreached wings.

"What-" Victor recoiled.

"Don't ask," the two women interrupted at the same time.

---

Nasuada half- closed her eyes in contemplation, rubbing her temples. _And tomorrow I still need to leave again for Abueron. _

"He ate an entire month's rations of eggs! A month's rations! A mon-"

"I heard you first ten times you said it," Nasuada snapped, the last of her patience defeated.

"But ma'am, he was one who invited me to the meal! He said I could eat until my belly's full!" he whined.

"Do you mistake me for an all- you- can- eat buffet? It's-"

"Ludacris, you will treat your friend here to a free dinner. You both are dismissed," the dark- skinned leader ordered with a wave of her hand.

"I sure as ain't-" They were escorted out by the guards, and a young boy was name was Jafthra, she believed, skittered inside the room.

"Ma'am, there's two women outside carrying a baby dragon! And one of them claims to be her Rider!" the boy exclaimed, his dark eyes alight.

Nasuada swore she thought she heard the word 'rider' and 'dragon'. _I need more rest. I'm so fatigued that my ears are deceiving me._ "Excuse me, I wasn't paying attention. Pardon me?"

Exasperatedly, he repeated, "Please, a Rider is awaiting you right outside these walls." Nasuada just gaped at him stupidly.

"Let her in," she muttered. The doors opened and two women stepped inside. Nasuada couldn't believe her eyes. In the woman's arms was a chocolate- colored baby dragon. They kneeled and curtsied before the Varden's leader, but Nasuada was too pre- occupied by the shock of the sight of another dragon before her.

"Your names?" she inquired, regaining her composure. She couldn't keep gawking with all these attendants observing her every movement.

"Lyla and Jeannette," the younger woman answered. Nasuada stood up from her uncomfortable seat and walked soundlessly towards them.

"Everyone is dismissed. Trianna and Jormundur, may you please stay by my side," she commanded with an air of authority. With a shuffling of feet and wave of whispers, the room was cleared save for the five individuals.

"Atranosu waíse vardo fra eld hórnya," the sorceress chanted, "Now you may talk freely without worrying about eavesdroppers." She was quite lovely with fine, elegant features and a magical, powerful aura around her. Jeannette felt a stab of jealousy and regret at her own lost beauty.

"Thank you, Trianna. Now, may you please explain to me your story?" _I shouldn't tell her I'm a hostage, but I wonder how powerful that sorceress is._

"When returning from the Battle of the Burning Plains, I inadvertently came upon a peculiar rock near a ravine. Later, when I returned to Cithrí, I discovered that the egg had hatched for me," she showed them the gedwëy ignasia. Doubt clouded the minds of the leaders. _She just happened to stumble across an egg unknown to the world for decades, even to Galbatorix, and it chose her, this meaningless girl, of all people? _

"I was present the entire time, so I bear witness for her story," the older woman alleged.

"Were you seen while you came?" Jormundur asked.

"No. I was hiding my dragon," she replied, pointing to the pack at her side.

"Does he have a name?"

"I don't know yet. I don't even know whether the dragon's a male or female," she shrugged.

"I'm sure you'll come up with something suitable," Nasuada nodded. There was something about this woman that Jeannette detested. She recalled how fondly Murtagh had described the leader of the Varden, and she now understood why. Nasuada could relate to Murtagh in a way Jeannette never will or could. Nasuada understood how it feels to have the burden of countless lives on her shoulders, and how she had to fight for every moment of her life. Envy effused into Jeannette, loathing suddenly churned in her stomach.

_What is this? First Trianna, now Nasuada. Is this some kind of jealousy phobia?_

"Have you gotten training in fighting or magic?" Trianna glared at her in disdain.

"I know how to defend myself, but that's it."

"I would be happy to teach you the fundamentals of magic," the charming sorceress offered, holding out her hands.

"No, she needs professional training. Eragon may be able to teach her the basics, but once the message is delivered to the elves, they will demand to shape her, especially when she's so malleable in the beginning," Nasuada disagreed.

"I suppose we can't shield her existence from the elves, can we? Islandazí will find out eventually, and she won't be delighted," Jormundur pondered aloud.

"I guess we don't have a choice but to send her to the elves then," Nasuada decided. Jeannette grew steadily annoyed that they were making her decision without her consent or input at all.

"But can we spare the time and resources? The Varden is in even more dire need-"

"If she isn't properly trained, she won't stand a chance in battle. Surely you wouldn't sacrifice her life for our convenience?" Jormundur and Trianna glared at each other.

"The question is: how can we transport her to the elves without trouble? Uru'baen and Dras- Leona are smack in the midst of the journey."

"You've forgotten that Eragon and Roran are at Helgrind. If we send them to Shadeslayer and Stronghammer for protection, I'm sure she can arrive safely," Jormundur analyzed.

"That might work. But whom would we send with her? And how do we contact Shadeslayer?"

"I know a powerful magician who can both protect her and contact Eragon Argetlam. I'm concerned about her slipping through unseen, especially with an infant dragon that can't protect itself." The hatchling growled in a low tone, as if offended to be called 'it'.

For the rest of the night, they continued to debate on the best course of action, oblivious to Lyla's and Jeannette's escalating exasperation and weariness. They shot each other sympathetic looks, and the dragon soon joined them.

"This is ridiculous. She will go with a few trusted, powerful magicians to Dras- Leona and she will proceed with Shadeslayer until they arrive under Queen Islandazí's custody," she turned her attention from the her scarlet- faced companions to Jeannette and placed a hand on her shoulder, "You have no idea what renewed hope you have given to us, Argetlam. I insist that you stay here for the night."

"When will I depart for the elves?"

"As soon as possible. In days, perhaps." Jeannette was so languid she could only manage a nod. They opened the doors and proceeded into the hallway, where attendants were patiently waiting for Nasuada's word. Jeannette tried but could not suppress a yawn. If it hadn't been for the hatchling, she'd long be asleep.

"Good night. Bethe! Please guide these ladies to their chambers," she clapped her hands, and a lady attendant stepped forward.

"Thank you, Lady Nasuada," Lyla said, nudging Jeannette.

"Aye. You've been more hospitable than necessary," she coerced to spit it out despite her abhorrence.

"Likewise," she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Follow me, please," the lady- in- waiting ordered, walking further into a labyrinth of rooms. After washing and dressing into a new nightgown, the hatchling cuddled on the bed near Jeannette's feet. She stroked her soft scales, her eyes lost in meditation.

"You need a name. And a gender. Trianna can't keep calling you 'it' the entire time," Jeannette muttered under her breath.

"Let's see..." she recalled the scrolls she had read about mythical dragons, and picked out a few names. "Deormund? Grimwold?" The dragon simply looked at her with irritated eyes. She repeated long lists of all the names she could think of, but the dragon only stared intently back. "Miremel? Alelda? Oh for goodness' sakes, what do you want to be named?" In response, the dragon hopped awkwardly to the table, her movement limited by her maimed leg. Its snout nuzzled the map of Algaesia and hooted softly.

"What?" She climbed out of the covers to see what the dragon was fussing about. "Lenora... Lake?" she read aloud. "Are you Lenora?" With smug satisfaction, she jumped back to the bed and curled up in a ball, closing her cocoa brown eyes.

"Well, good night, Lenora." With that, she walked barefoot to her window, which was covered by satin curtains. Just before she pulled them together, she looked up to see the Anatam Constellation in a myriad of stars. Her heart ached to be reunited with Murtagh, to feel completely secure inside his arms, and his smile to elapse her world.

_Oh Murtagh. Are you thinking about me as I'm thinking about you?_

The answer was yes.

In the heart of Galbatorix's Empire was Murtagh Morzansson, staring at the same stars at the same time.

The Next Chapter:

Chapter 15: Premonition

This entire chapter will be in Murtagh's point of view. Whoopee! I might even include a poem in the next chapter. I'll have to see...

R&R! I'm crazy about reviews, trust me.


	15. Premonition

In response to mlb, I'll make the romance 'subtle'. It won't really be romance between Eragon and Jeannette, more like one- way flirting.

Anyway, wasn't this interesting to write...

I originally intended this to only be Murtagh's point of view, but that ended up only being 800 words... ahh... Sorry it's short. I didn't really feel like writing, and instead I've been working on Naruto OneShots. I've already written a Sasuke one, if anyone wants to read it...

Chapter 15: Premonition

His heart dragged down his eyes from the midnight blue sky. He had trouble sleeping lately, and purple bags were beginning to form around his eyes. Galbatorix's callous torturing and coercion of loyalty didn't help either. His bones were still weary and his muscles still languid from the agonizing ordeal. He collapsed on the bed, trying to find some fitful sleep.

_An evergreen forest, _

_Of subtle olives and teals, _

_The hoot of an owl, _

_The howl of a wolf. _

* * *

_Whirlpools of swirling mist, _

_An incessant incantation, _

_Of a howling gale, _

_Sweeping the scene past. _

* * *

_An everglade of milky sage, _

_An ululation of a vulture's cry, _

_An evanescent crescent moon, _

_Hidden behind a sheet of obsidian clouds. _

* * *

_A swamp from Lacrim floods, _

_Sprouts of overgrown weeds, _

_And murky from titian mud. _

_Stagnant, silent, serene. _

* * *

_A scream pierced the night, _

_Stabbed through the heart, _

_The land weeps sanguine tears, _

_Spilling into the cardinal water. _

* * *

_The wound pervades _

_Like a contagious disease, _

_The world now nothing more _

_Than a universe of virulent blood... _

Murtagh's eyes shot open. He was panting and his forehead was sweaty. _What kind of dream was that?_ Surprisingly enough, the room was well- lit from the sunshine pouring out of the window, filtered by satin curtains.

Murtagh cursed under his breath as he dressed. _I overslept. _He had gotten indolent under Jeannette's care. She worked as a living alarm clock, washer and dryer, meal- provider, and entertainer. Murtagh saw his newly appointed maid, what? Two ephemeral moments? Her skinny frame cowered and scampered every time he approached as if he was the devil. He realized for the first time how much Jeannette had really done for him, and he didn't even do as much as notice. _I guess it's true what they say. People don't know what they have until they lose it._

A heap of sweaty, grimy clothes lay in the corner. If Jeannette was here, she would have admonished him, and then the clothes would be folded neatly in the dresser, clean and dry. He sighed, and then turned to walk to the kitchen. She had served him breakfast every morning, and now he had to creep in and out just to grab a bite.

Despite what he tried to tell himself, he missed Jeannette terribly, and he hated himself for it. His heart longed to be reawakened by her smile every morning, and to hear her cackling laughter ring in his ears.

His nightmares were getting worse, as if they were desperately trying to warn him somehow. _I can't keep doing this._ _Assuming she isn't dead, she's probably taken hostage in Surda._

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" a high- pitched voice snapped him back to reality.

"Alanis, this isn't the time-"

_Slap_. Paralyzed with surprise, he stared at the venomous, accusing glare from the young servant.

"What was that for?" he twitched his eyebrow, touching his pink cheek.

"You've been avoiding me on purpose, haven't you?" she incriminated, jabbing a finger at his chest.

"Why would I be doing such a thing?"

"Because Jeannette's been missing for days and you don't want to face my wrath!" she shouted in his face.

"And how did it suddenly become my fault?"

"How can you even call yourself a man? If you cared for her at all, you would have ransomed her and she would be here right now!"

"You think I didn't try?"

"Well then try harder! If Galbatorix refused, then drag your rear end over there and bring her here yourself! Are you really that dim- witted?" she fumed.

"Without Galbatorix's permission, I won't be able to step one foot out of Uru'baen!" he returned the shout, rage starting to build inside of him. _What does this foolish girl know?_

"Tomorrow he's leaving for Gil'ead. There's your chance." He returned her infuriated glare, but finally relented. _She's right. I can't keep shirking my duty. I wonder how she knows..._

"Very well then. I'll leave for Surda tomorrow," he concurred.

"No later. Who knows what might have happened to Jeannette by now. Promise me that you'll come back with her," Alanis ordered resolutely with an iron glare.

"I promise. Happy?"

"Humph."

_Thorn?_

_You've finally made your decision to retrieve Jeannette, haven't you? _

_You were waiting for me... _

_...To come back to your senses. _

_Galbatorix won't like this a bit. _

_And since when had that stopped you?_ He snorted.

_We're leaving tomorrow night for Cithrí._

_How do you intend to find her? _

_Ask around, and try to contact her. If need be, I can even extract memories. Not pleasant, but I'm sure I can erase my presence easily. _

_It's far better than bearing you lamenting over her disappearance._

---

Jeannette woke from a soft tongue licking her face.

"Lenora..." she groaned, turning over and rubbing the saliva against her pillow. She gave a shriek and began pecking her hair.

"Stop! Ow!" she cried, "Okay, I'm help!" Defeated, she rose, arms outreached in a stretch. A knock came from her door, and mumbled 'enter.'

"I trust you've had a good night's sleep?" Nasuada's slender figure entered gracefully into the room.

"Better than I've had since..." _I've left Murtagh_.

"Good. Here is your traveling outfit. I hope these fit," she handed her an armful of clothes with thick boots on top.

"Thank you so much, Lady Nasuada," she forced a sincere smile.

"It's the least I can do for the Varden's new Rider. After you get dressed, you will meet with the council. Are you prepared to swear fealty to the Varden?" Jeannette cursed inside. _Why didn't I see this coming?_

"In the Ancient Language?"

"That would be best, or else would have to probe your mind," a hint of a threat appeared in her voice. _Probe my mind?_

"Uh, but I'm afraid I don't know how..."

"Trianna can tell you the words, and all you have to do is repeat them," she explained. Jeannette gulped. They could be tricking her to say anything, and she wouldn't have a clue what happened.

"But how can I trust you? How do I know you won't deceive me into protecting your life or something?" The moment the words came from her mouth, she regretted it.

"You can't," she retorted, her eyes alight and lips curved in a tantalizing smirk, "At least I know you won't follow us blindly, right? That's always good to know." Jeannette could only blink blankly at her.

"Well, I'll be waiting. If there's anything, anything at all, I'd be happy to talk." With that, she swiftly exited the room, leaving Jeannette alone with a restless infant dragon.

She sighed deeply. For some reason, she felt like as if she was in competition with this woman. Nasuada had such a strong spirit and will, and she was beautiful and wise as well...

---

"Roran!" Eragon called to his cousin, deftly blocking a blow from the wounded Ra'zac.

"Right here, Shadeslayer," he replied and screamed a war cry. Eragon jumped aside with inhuman grace, allowing Roran to decapitate the last Ra'zac. Before it had time to scream, its head fell onto the ground with a thump, and its body collapsed into a bloody, dark heap. The body of a Lethrblaka lay beside it, its wings broken and its body battered with blood.

Rushing footsteps and muffled shouting echoed down the hallway. They ran toward further down the hallway, and Eragon soon realized that it was a labyrinth. Many would lead to traps, other to dead ends, and only one will lead to Katrina.

"Which way, Argetlam?" Roran asked impatiently. Eragon reached out with his senses, trying to find Katrina's mind. What he found, however, made him gape in astonishment. It was a vault... a vault of souls. Countless restless spirits who had been victims of the Ra'zac. Their screams pounded into Eragon's mind, and he screamed in agony.

"Eragon, Eragon!" Roran shook the Rider's shoulders.

_Eragon, are you all right?_

_I... I think so._ He withdrew his mental mind and rushed down the left passageway. Roran followed behind him, but Eragon motioned his hand.

"Go left. That's where Katrina is. I'll follow you later. There's something I must find out first," Eragon ordered.

All three points of views in this chapter... hmm.

Next Chapter: Chapter 16: Close Encounters

There'll be a bit of Murtagh in the next chapter. Say good- bye to Alanis though. You won't be seeing her for a long time.


	16. Close Encounters

If you haven't read my companion poem Premonition already, do so please. I don't really care if you don't, but if you read it carefully you may go like OoO.

There's just so much I want to write. Naruto OneShots, a Seto Kaiba OneShot, my Kurogane series, my Naruto series... Do you mind if I don't update for three weeks... or four? This chapter was difficult to write, and it's fairly long, so enjoy. It has, like, four different points of view in it. Sorry, this is probably the last time you're going to see Murtagh in a long time.

Chapter 16: Close Encounters

Eragon Shadeslayer flew down the hall with tremendous momentum, his feet barely touching the ground before taking another step. Solembum's words echoed in his ears, even above his fervent panting and pounding of his heart.

_Listen closely and I will tell you two things. When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa tree. Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls._

_Saphira, I think I found the Vault of Souls! The rock of Kuthian is Helgrind!_ He grit his teeth in concentration. _But I don't know my true name! _

_Relax, little one. Everything will turn out fine_, Saphira assured, but Eragon caught a hint of hesitation and dread in her voice. _Elves know their true names inherently. _

_But I don't! Maybe I'm still too hu-._ He stopped to gape in awe. It was a solid wall of scintillating amorphous material that glowed an indigo, obsidian, and violaceous aura. It seemed to devour the stonewall around it, carving into the ceiling, ground, and walls.

_Black magic_, Eragon hissed. Without warning, hundreds- no- thousands of voices suddenly poured into his mind.

_"Shadesla..." a high- pitched, blood- curdling scream interrupted the beseeching voice._

_"Help us!" they writhed like spirits shackled in chains of death._

They screamed and flew, devouring Eragon's mind with their bitter hatred, enmity, regret, fear, wrath... all directed upon one unanimous enemy: the Empire. He screamed in a pathetic effort to clear his mind.

_Eragon! Are you-_ Saphira's voice was drowned out by their forceful pleas, clawing at him in agony.

_STOP IT!_ Eragon could take no more, using all of his will to force the thousands of voices out of his mind, and the next thing he knew, he collapsed on the ground, his vision blacking out...

---

Saphira cursed inside. _He can't hear me! Why did that passageway have to be so low? I can't get inside. Eragon! ERAGON! _

_--- _

_Their faces were monstrous globs of decaying meat, and their bodies thin wisps of the little that remained. Thousands of them propelled themselves through Eragon, sharing their last thoughts, figments of dying memories, and what cruelties they had endured. _

_--- _

_"Mama!" the girl wailed, screaming and thrashing in her last moment before the Ra'zac pounded onto the tiny hapless body, devouring her flesh and blood... _

_--- _

_A vicious, roaring fire burst from the roof, leaving a gaping hole where the lavender- scented, lavishly furnished bedroom had been just a few minutes ago. The fire spread like a disease, devouring the once- splendid mansion with its white- hot wrath. _

_"No! My parents are still in there!" a scream pierced the night, and Eragon was amazed to find out it was his own voice. _

_--- _

_"Please! Please..." he cried, tears pouring from his eyes, "Please spare the life of a poor beggar. I have never known mercy in my life..." Eragon hesitated with the knife in his hands, and then reluctantly sheathed it. _

_He walked away, not looking back at the sorry sight. Big mistake. He shrieked in agony as a knife stabbed his back, blood pouring from the wound. The man withdrew the dagger from his back, releasing an unimaginable amount of pain. He fell onto the ground, a heap of bloody guts. _

_"Foolish idiot..." the sound of malicious sadist laughter echoed in his ears before he was released into an eternity of darkness... _

_--- _

_Eragon could bear no more. He felt himself losing his grip on life, on humanity, and his own body. The painless eternity of serving evil seemed like such a merciful offer at this moment, and he agreed. He slipped into the darkness, joining the other fallen phantoms... _

_--- _

_"Shadeslayer, no! You are our savior, our freedom bringer, __Äftaka __Telrúnya Elessar!"_

Eragon gasped for breath, finally conscious and free from the phantoms' grasps. For the first time in his life he was grateful for everything he had- and didn't have. It felt so surreal to be in his real body again, and his head was spinning in a headache. _How long have I been out? _

_Ten seconds, perhaps. What happened?_ Eragon couldn't believe it. Those ten seconds had seemed like an eternity of lifetimes. _I'll tell you later. _He braced himself, raised his gedwëy ignasia, closed his eyes, and shouted, "Äftaka Telrúnya Elessar!"

Fatigue slammed into him like a tsunami. Before he realized what he had done, he was already knocked out.

---

Arya gasped at the ceiling of the hallway. Thousands of wispy white ghosts were stampeding through the air, pivoting in sheer freedom. They screamed and shouted in joy, their individual voices drowned in a cacophony of cries.

"Eragon, what have you done now?" Arya murmured, breathing hard. She didn't know how much longer she could last. She was already pushing her body to the limit, and she was too exhausted to use magic. The tip of her sword was dripping with crimson blood of the slain guards and Ra'zac. The superstitious group of disparate soldiers gaped and screamed in horror, their faces ghostly pale. Dropping their weapons in deference, they scrambled over each other to reach the exit. She ran further deeper into the labyrinth, reaching with her magical senses to contact Eragon. She found his mind vulnerable and unconscious, and apprehension clawed at her imagination. After what seemed like hours of fervent running, she spotted Eragon's body lying on the ground, his skin pale and cold.

"Eragon, this is no time to be sleeping," she shook his shoulder roughly, and Eragon stirred from his slumber.

"Arya..." his eyes were lost with unshed tears, "I have seen, but I wish I didn't. I know what I must do now."

---

Murtagh went limp with shock. _This cannot be happening._ The souls in the vault... were free! He cursed, and felt like he badly needed to kill something. _This is a disaster. When Galbatorix and I meet again..._ He closed his eyes, shivering at the prospect. _It won't be pretty._ Who had freed the spirits? How? There was only one possibility.

_Eragon. _Getting past the guards and Ra'zac would not be difficult for him, but how had he opened the vault? If the elves knew a counter to destroy it, why had they not done so already? He should have seen this coming. The Ra'zac claimed they could kill him, but since when had they been able to do a job properly? He slammed his fist on Thorn's carmine scales, but he was too infuriated to even notice. Atop of Thorn, he shouted a loud curse into the air.

Not only were Murtagh and Galbatorix now weaker beyond comparison, but now Galbatorix would call Murtagh back immediately. Eragon would undoubtedly be in Dras- Leona, so should he try to capture him? The damage had already been done. It was only half a day's flight to the morbid city. He felt uncomfortable, to say the least, defying Galbatorix, and he knew torture would come later. He already had an amazing display of scars; did he really want to add more to the collection?

_Murtagh, you promised to bring Jeannette back, didn't you?_ Thorn interrupted his thoughts. 

_Yes, but this changes everything._

_You've already come this far. Are you going to capitulate to Galbatorix's will now? After this, there will be no chance to reunite with your woman. _

_I realize that, but... _

_How much are you willing to sacrifice for her? She's the only person who's helping you cling to the Murtagh you were before you were... changed. _

_Do you think she's worth fighting for? _

_Don't ask me, ask your heart. What do you think is the right thing to do? Forget about her? Or show Galbatorix that you're not his puppet? _

_I... _He couldn't bring himself to betray Jeannette, even at the expense of his own well- being. If something happened to her, it would haunt his conscience forever. He suddenly realized something else too. Murtagh could feel that his power source was gone, leaving him with only his waning human strength. Galbatorix had had such protection for decades. To be sudden deprived of such a power after so long would be like cutting off his hands._ Galbatorix must be feeling very vulnerable right now. His control over me may have waned. _

_So you've decided? _

_Yes. _

_Good. _

_Curse you, Jeannette, why couldn't you just stay still like a good little girl? _He was only a few days away from Cithrí. Could he evade Galbatorix that long? He doubted it. _Why do you have to mess everything up at the most horrible times, Eragon?_

---

"No! I refuse to be probed. I've already sworn in front of the Du Vrangr Gata and the council. Do you doubt my loyalty?" The elfish magician could not hide his exasperation any longer.

"I heard that you are a hostage from the enemy. We cannot afford any mistakes. Look at the Twins, and look at the price we have paid. You do not have a choice in this matter, hu-" he grit his teeth, forcing the words out venomously.

"Jeannette, I understand your reluctance at the invasion of your privacy, but we don't have a choice. If you have nothing to hide, you would accept," Nasuada explained, her charcoal eyes begging for compliance. Surprisingly enough, Jeannette found herself wanting to defer, but she caught herself. _What if they catch my feelings for Murtagh and my entire life serving Galbatorix? _She squirmed in her seat apprehensively under the glare of the infuriated elf.

"Perhaps Shadeslayer could probe me instead?" she blurted. Nasuada blinked for a moment, considering the possibility. (Note from author: Jeannette does NOT know that Eragon and Murtagh are brothers. Not even a clue. She's just stalling here.)

"Who knows when that will be?"

"I'll allow only him. It's either that or nothing at all, and nothing you say can persuade me otherwise," she decided adamantly, crossing her arms. Nasuada gazed at the younger woman in antagonism and resentment. It was not like this foolish girl had a choice about being probed or not. She was only delaying the inevitable. If she were any other denizen, she would already be punished for her insolence. Who was she to refuse the leader of the Varden? It was not like everyone was begging on their knees for her agreement. _Why can't she just acquiesce and make my life easier? I must leave in a few hours, so it's not like I have time for this._ She didn't want to coerce her agreement, especially at the beginning. They were not Galbatorix, and her dedication is far more valuable. If Murtagh willingly served Galbatorix, he would have done far more damage.

"Very well. I will ask Trianna. Then I suppose you'll agree to interrogation?" Jeannette nodded reluctantly.

"Where exactly did you find the egg?"

"On a rock edge in a forest halfway on the trek from the battle to Cithrí."

"Can you show me?" he asked, unfolding a map of Surda.

"Lady Nasuada," Trianna interrupted, curtsying at the door. "We are ready to contact Eragon Shadeslayer."

"Could you ask Eragon to probe her mind since she refuses to do so here?"

"Aye."

"Thank you."

---

They arrived back at the secret inn unseen. Katrina was unconscious and badly hurt, but Eragon had already healed her wounds with Arya's assistance. Birgit congratulated them with relief and worry, fixing their wounds and coaxing them to bed. Eragon flipped over the covers, his eyelids feeling like a million pounds. Still, sleep refused to come. Whenever the trickles of sleep started, he would be blasted awake by the voice of the slain victims.

His mind wandered off to other thoughts. Something nagged at the corner of his mind. He just _happened_ to learn his real name when he was just about to die? Slaying the Lethrblaka and two other Ra'zac seemed unbelievably easy, compared to what he was expecting. Arya had managed to keep an army at bay to give Eragon and Roran time. Would she have held longer if it wasn't for the freeing of the spirits? None of them were seriously injured, and it was a serious relief to find that Katrina would revive completely. So far, no one had suspected their real identities, and they had never gotten into trouble with guards or officials. Suddenly he remembered Jeannette's words after the battle at the Burning Plains.

_Esterní eom ono._

Could her words have been a real spell? _Good luck... _He decided it was possible. Victor claimed that she had used a magical spell during battle, and she had fainted from overexertion of magic both times.

A solid buzzing entered his head, and when he guarded his mind, the buzzing persisted, stronger than ever. Eragon had a feeling that this happened before. He suddenly remembered when: with Brom. _Could somebody be trying to contact me? But who? How?_ Reluctantly, he dissipated the barriers from his mind, but ready to throw them up in the slightest hint of hostility.

_Eragon Shadeslayer, it is me, Trianna, leader of the Du Vrangr Gata._ She spoke with strain in the Ancient Language, but he could feel the support and strength of other minds and souls. Eragon was amazed. To contact a person from such a great distance was a tremendous feat, especially for a ragtag group of magicians who can barely heal a toothache. Then he realized what made this possible: elvish spellcasters.

_How have you fared with the Ra'zac? _

_Better than I could have hoped. All of us are essentially unharmed, and the filthy Ra'zac are completely eradicated. _

_Well done, Eragon. _

_What great need is there to communicate me in such a manner?_ He demanded stiffly, part alarmed and part irritated.

_Argetlam, a previously unknown egg has hatched to an inept girl with no magical or pysical talent. She has sworn allegiance to the Varden, albeit reluctantly. What do you propose?_ Eragon was immediately thrown awake from her words. For a moment he just gaped at the concept, his head not able to assimilate what just happened.

_Where is she now?_

_In Cithrí._ _There are competent elvish magicians with you, correct?_

_Aye._ He mentally did the calculations. With haste, he could join them in three to four days, and it would take a week to arrive at Du Waldenvarden. Four of them had managed to creep into Dras- Leona unnoticed, but even that had come at great risk.

_I propose that she gains proper training with the elves, as I did. _He was surprised to feel a hint of disappointment radiating from her through their magical link... and perhaps even envy?

_Can we afford the time?_

_We can't afford not to. She will meet with me outside of Dras- Leona with only three of the strongest, trusted elves. Arya and I will accompany her to Ellésmera. I must complete my training. Two elves will accompany Roran, Katrina and Birgit back to Surda. You won't regret the decision. Fully trained, she is going to be a dozen times more valuable._

_Very well. I will send the word. We will contact you again to confirm the details or if anything goes wrong._

_Thank you. Be punctual; we can't afford to lose any time._

_Argetlam, one more thing._

_Yes?_

_She refuses to be probed, and I don't trust her. She agreed to open her mind to you only._

_Very well. I will decide her trustworthiness._ Satisfied at how she handled her mission, Trianna withdrew her mind, her head spinning as she returned to her cognizant body.

---

Jeannette sighed and pouted with her arms crossed. Her rump was sore from riding for three days straight without any rest. The journey had been totally uneventful; these elves were as loquacious as stones. They barely took notice of her, and when they did, they eyed her vainly and sardonically. She was often uneasy around them, since she was the only person who was female, human, and ignorant to magic.

Her only entertainment came from feeding and playing with Lenora, who was currently snoozing in her backpack. Even the landscape had gotten lackluster. She was tired of seeing the same old Jiet River to her left, within sight but out of touch. It was getting wider and wider, and Jeannette saw the collision between the river and Lenora Lake. Helgrind and Dras- Leona was only a dark spot in the distance. In a day or two, they would reach it. They took a dirt trail that was seldom used to avoid suspicion and people.

The elves had put illusions on everyone, even the horses. They wove a web of protection around Jeannette and Lenora through various wards, but for some reason Jeannette didn't feel flattered.

The guiding elf- _what was his name, Vanir?_- halted abruptly, and the others became still.

"Eragon instructed me to split up. Eöl and Faelivrin, meet Roran, Katrina, and Birgit on the west side of Helgrind two leagues out. Argetlam, you will stay with me where we shall join Arya Svit- kona and Eragon Shadeslayer," he ordered, his counterfeit face covered behind a dark hood. They conversed softly in elvish, just out of Jeannette's earshot.

"Follow me," he commanded, steering his horse to the right. Without even a good- bye, the other two elves parted, and eventually the sound of the hooves dissipated into the distance. Reluctantly, she followed the handsome, vain elf toward the east side of Dras- Leona. The rest of the trip was totally silent and uneventful with only a famished Lenora for good company.

"We're finally there," he whispered, putting up his hood. Jeannette jolted in her seat, her ears perking. That was the fist thing he'd said for hours. The ominous guarded doors of Dras- Leona stood before them with two armed guards at the sides. One of them made a waving motion, but Vanir stopped Jeannette.

"I am Marcus, and you are my sister, Gia. We've come to return home, but leave all the talking to me," he corrected, and Jeannette nodded in compliance. They approached the exasperated guard who stopped them.

"Wha're 'u filth doin' 'ere?" he asked gruffly, his sullied features curved in a sneer.

"I've come back after a hard day of hunting. My family's waiting," Vanir replied indifferently.

"Well 'en, gimme a portion of 'ur game and I'll le' you pass," he smirked, "Kid."

"I will do no such thing. You will let us through," Vanir commanded forcefully. His words had such an authority that Jeannette felt herself blindly agreeing without a single thought. _Magic. _

The guard immediately ran to open the metal doors, not questioning a word he said.

"E 'ere just in time," he muttered, and the two people slipped through the doors, unscathed.

"Was that really necessary?" Jeannette hissed.

"What does it matter to you?" he replied indignantly, dismissing the question. Jeannette felt a bubble of fury and antipathy pop inside her. Was he so vain that he wouldn't answer a simple question? Or does he consider humans so trivial that their minds are just meaningless toys?

The sky was already dark with only a hazy line at the horizon from the evanescent sun. The streets' clamor and people were diminishing, and Vanir stopped abruptly and dismounted from his horse.

"I need to contact Eragon, but I'm afraid he's blocked his mind. I'm going to have to reach him physically. I'll take the horses, but stay here. Don't do anything flagrant, and remember that I'll be coming back for you soon. Don't go anywhere, and let's hope you can follow simple instructions..." he broke off, snatching the reins of her horse. Gritting her teeth, Jeannette dismounted with Lenora in her bag and leaned against the cool stonewall. She stared as Vanir disappeared into the streets, blending into the dark streets.

"Need somewher' t' stay for the night?" an old hunchback grinned, revealing missing teeth, and snatched her arm. With disgust, she scrambled from him immediately, muttered gibberish, and dashed into the nearby building.

Eyes turned as they watched Jeannette enter the bar and place herself in the corner of the room, sitting awkwardly in a chair, hoping to dissipate into the shadows.

---

Murtagh watched as the beggar woman scampered into the bar, and he raised his eyebrow in surprise. Any lone woman knew better than to come into a bar full of drunken men. But then again, she was a petty thing. Her garments were filthy and ripped, and she herself fared no better. She was covered in a layer of slime, her long charcoal hair consuming her ashy face. Her features were so profoundly wrinkled and ugly it was painful to gaze at her too long.

Murtagh took the last sip from his mug, and then threw the bartender a few crowns. He kept himself silent with his face hidden, even though he had carefully disguised himself with illusions.

Another man entered the door with an expression of smug satisfaction. He was also dressed like a beggar, and he realized that the woman had stood up and approached him. They conversed for a few moments before he slipped a piece of paper in her hand.

He gruffly gave them an aloof gaze and proceeded to exit the tavern. In mid- step, suddenly something shifted. Their bodies seemed to glimmer and fade for a second with familiar features in their place. But the moment was ephemeral, when their appearances returned. He blinked, wondering if his eyes had played a trick on him. _Or maybe it was... magic?_ He immediately dismissed the thought as preposterous. If he had his original strength from the Vault, he could decide immediately, but not now. _I'm probably just paranoid._ Not glancing back, Murtagh disappeared into the dark shadows festering Dras- Leona, looking for a place to spend the night...

Next chapter:

Chapter 17: New Acquaintances

Lala, Eragon and Arya meet Jeannette in the next chapters. So, let's see how they interact, shalln't we? Nasuada doesn't seem to like Jeannette that much, so will Arya?

Mucho gracias to my new beta reader, Fire Dancer! You should make a series on fanfiction too, so I don't have to go on Shur'tugal all the time. I'm editing her story too, and it's amazing.


	17. New Acquaintances

**"What senses do we lack that we cannot hear or see another world around us?"** –Bene Gesserit Aphorism, probably around chapter 20 or something.

If anyone notices where the quote and name comes from, good for you. cough cough Sioby, maybe Jes Yeah, trust me, it's part of a far larger picture. Arrakis in the Hadarac Desert... hahaha! You really are hilarious, Jes. Forgive my ranting. Anyway...

God, I would have gotten this out to you much sooner if it wasn't for Jess's hilarious but unnecessary comments and edits (Okay, okay, thank you. Very much appreciate it. I spent like 20 minutes deleting all your superfluous remarks.) Credit also goes to Fire Dancer for the rest!

Chapter 17: New Acquaintances

Vanir couldn't believe it. A new Rider on their side was wonderful news, but of all people in their world, it had to be _her?_ Vanir could barely constrain his overwhelming disdain. Now all three of the new Riders were human. Before the Fall, elves ruled the Riders unanimously. After all, how could humans even compare with their inferior physical and mental abilities?

She had no magical or physical prowess, and most of all, she was _female_. Could her dragon made a worst choice? He thought not. If those two charged onto the battlefield, dozens upon dozens of lives would would be sacrificed for her sake- and perhaps him as well.

So he simply sat quietly on his magnificent stallion, guiding the four back to Ellésmera, simmering silently in wrath, envy, and contempt.

---

Eragon cursed inwardly. Of all the powerful elvish magicians, they had to choose _Vanir_? Of course, there was nothing wrong with that, but it certainly didn't make things easier.

He glanced over his shoulder at the new Rider, who was playing with her infant brown hatchling. He couldn't believe that the new Rider was _her,_ the same girl he had saved only a week ago.He grimaced at the malformed leg and her oblivious expression. _They have no idea what's in store for them. That leg will be problematic, to say the least. Perhaps... _

"Jeannette, Trianna requested that I probe your mind to confirm your loyalty. We shouldn't delay this any longer," Eragon informed. Her hesitation and apprehension was evident as she bit her lip and averted her gaze.

"But won't that only slow our progress?" she muttered reluctantly, her insides filling with dread.

"I'm sure Vanir won't protest if we stop for a few minutes," Eragon answered, quickly replied by Vanir's scoff. Jeannette thought fervently. What could she do? Stall? He was going to learn everything one day; it was only a matter of time.

"Maybe you could teach me magic," she grinned broadly, trying to digress from the topic. Eragon blinked stupidly, chastising himself for never thinking of it before.

"I suppose it would help save time. How much do you know?" he raised a brow.

"Not really much of anything," she shrugged.

"Hold out your hands," he instructed. She did so, revealing her gedwey ignasia. "It won't matter in Du Waldenvarden, but it's best to keep your palm covered. Consider gloves, especially when you choose not to use magic. If you're going on a secret mission without wishing revealing your identity, I suggest you keep it covered with dirt and slime as well." Jeannette nodded, relief sweeping through her at her success at distracting Eragon, or at least for the time being.

"Try something like this. Stenr reisa," he said clearly, and a small pebble rose and dropped into his palm. _He's teaching me how to raise a pebble?_ Her eyebrows twitched in annoyance at the insult.

"Stenr reisa," she repeated. She blinked. The dust on the pebble hadn't even shifted. "Stenr reisa!" Nothing happened. Arya could barely stifle a snicker.

"Stenr reisa! Stenr reisa! STENR REISA!" she repeated with escalating frustration at the trivial pebble, but nothing happened. Arya and Vanir burst out snickering, unable to contain their disdain. Jeannette's frustration exploded, her insides and cheeks boiling in chagrin. Gathering all of her wrath, she shouted, "Stenr reisa!" At first, nothing happened. Suddenly, Jeannette felt something in her mind. It was like a barrier that tantalizingly dared her to cross, trickling her magic. With all her sheer determination and fury, she pushed as hard as she could. The barrier collapsed with amazing compliance, and before anyone realized it, the pebble soared through the air and struck Vanir squarely in his eye.

"Ow!" he screamed and muttered a series of elvish curses. Eragon and Arya burst out laughing, but they quickly quieted themselves from his glare.

"Um, sorry. I didn't do that on purpose," she apologized, but secretly she was proud of herself. _Teaches him._ He simply averted his gaze, his mind machinating the day he would get his revenge...

---

Jeannette hummed as she washed her hair in the running creek, which was softly trickling further into the ravine.

"Jeannette?" The voice was Eragon's, and she turned to face him.

"Hmm?"

"Are you positive that no one had taught you magic previously?" he inquired politely, but the skepticism in his voice showed.

"What, you don't trust me?"

"It's not that, it's just that... never mind." _Your progress is amazing. To be able to make a pebble fly so fast on your first try... are you even human? _

"A few more weeks of this kind of training and I may even have a chance at staying alive in the next battle," she chuckled, combing her hair into a ponytail.

"But there's always the physical element to worry about. If you feel tired or overwhelmed before, during, or after the lesson, don't ignore it. Magic is dangerous, even for a Rider." _He talks a lot more than Murtagh. Or maybe that's only because he's tutoring me._

"I see. Shadeslayer, if you'll forgive me asking, but are you human or an elf? Or perhaps even a half- breed?"

"Well, I suppose I'm both. I was born a human... but during the Blood- Oath Ceremony, I... transformed. It's a long, boring story. I'll tell you later," he explained.

"Do you have any family?" she asked.

"I-" he looked down, "There's Roran Stronghammer, my cousin. He's practically like a brother to me. We grew up together..." His voice trailed off, his eyes nostalgic. _She deserves to know, but not yet._

"Is there anyone special to you?" she smiled, thinking of Murtagh.

"Saphira, of course. She's the only one who really knows me. And..." he couldn't hide the rose appearing on his cheeks.

"Arya?" she whispered, raising an eyebrow. "Don't blame you. She's a beauty." On the inside, the jealousy was overwhelming her. Murtagh had mentioned Arya as well as Nasuada. What had he called her? Dull? _Well, this Rider seems to have overlooked it._

"Don't. I really should give up. She's rejected me..." To his immense surprise, Jeannette gave a broad grin and patted him on the shoulder.

"I'm sure she'll come around." Eragon smiled slightly. _Optimism._ _I guess a little bit won't hurt._ He liked her quite a bit. Her innocence, her scars, her good nature... although she wasn't attractive on the outside, there was definitely something decent inside of her.

"One more thing."

"Yes?"

"I suggest you repair your relationship with Vanir. An elvish ally during battle is a great asset. Elves are immortal, so their grudges may not even be evident for years. Let's just say-" Jeannette felt like she had been offended.

"He's the one who hates me! Have you seen how he looks at me? He's radiating contempt every time I talk-"

"Forgive him. He doesn't know any better. He was the same to me, when I was crippled and fully human. Or better yet... teach him a lesson. Show him that you're not a pathetic wuss unworthy of his recognition." Jeannette simply pouted and huffed. She muttered some witty retort, but stopped after seeing the exasperation on Eragon's face.

"There is also some background knowledge you'll need to know before arriving."

"Like what?"

"Proper names and addresses, people you should learn of... This might be overwhelming at first, but I'm sure you'll be able to master it by the time we arrive, which will be in a few days."

"Okay, try me," she challenged, folding her arms.

"Arya is the princess of the elves, also known as the egg- carrier." Jeannette's jaw dropped. _P-Princess? Oh god, Nasuada's the leader of the Varden, Arya's an elvish princess, Trianna's the beautiful, powerful sorceress, and what am I? A bastard with a lame dragon?_ That moment, Jeannette could have started weeping and not notice. _How can I even compare with them? To Murtagh, I'll hardly be anyone at all..._

"Are you okay?" he frowned.

"Sure. Go on." She put up a heroic front, feeling shaken.

"The one with the highest precedence speaks first. If you are unsure of anyone's rank, stay silent." He told her endless lists of proper etiquette, and she repeated them absentmindedly, now hoping that she could even survive her visit. If all the elves were like Vanir, she'd probably commit suicide. By the end of the lecture, Jeannette had never felt more depressed. Eragon didn't even do as much as notice, smug at how he had taught her so efficiently.

---

_Jeannette._ Lenora's pestering voice entered her head.

_Jeannette._

_Jeannette._

"What do you want?" she exclaimed, eyebrows twitching. Lenora answered by licking her hand.

"You've got to be kidding me. I just fed you five minutes ago. How much can you eat? You're barely getting any bigger." The last part was not a lie, which was odd. Lenora still remained small, but there were hints of maturity showing. In a few weeks, she may even start flying. She grabbed another piece of meat and tossed it at Lenora, who devoured it ravenously.

_Food. Good.  
_

"Uh- huh," she muttered. At least her dragon knew simple words now. Still, Jeannette couldn't figure out how to communicate telepathically. It came easily to Eragon, but not to her for some reason.

The sparse signs of life had now increased to a thriving forest. The growing trees whispered in the wind, hiding the fauna. Squirrels jumped from branch to branch, and miniscule tree frogs and crickets chirped constantly, only to be covered by a bird's trill or fluttering. Ellésmera was so beautiful, so pristine, so untouched... so unlike everything Jeannette had known her entire life.

The trip had been eventful enough. At night, illuminated by the blazing fire, Eragon taught her fighting techniques, and the enormous differences in their strength didn't really help. Fighting him was like fighting Murtagh, only ten times harder. By the time she was fast asleep, she always had a new set of bruises. Eragon offered to heal her, but she adamantly refused. She had considered healing her own bruises, but decided against it. After all, she was a Rider now. What kind of Rider couldn't even endure that much?

Her magical ability, on the other hand, was quite the opposite story. In half a week, she had accomplished what Eragon finished in a month. She was strong enough to lift stones the size of her palm, but control was the hardest for her. Her frustration only made more mistakes. But with feats of sheer strength, she could do them by instigating her frustration and determination. Everyone usually end up in one piece by the end. The worst time was when she was trying to lift a very heavy rock; instead of rising off the ground, it exploded inside out, razor- sharp pieces of stone flying toward her face. If it wasn't for Eragon's quick reflexes, Jeannette didn't want to think of what would happen to her.

A knock on the door disrupted her thoughts, and Jeannette shuffled out of bed to open the door.

"Eragon," she blinked.

"Islandazí requires your presence. Remember everything that I've taught you. It's so unfortunate that you've been forced to choose your side so quickly. The queen will undoubtedly try to influence you more than anyone else, Jeannette. Come," he waved. Nearly skipping with zeal, she cradled Lenora in her arms and rushed to Eragon's side.

People bowed their heads in respect as they passed, which surprised Jeannette. She had only arrived the night before, and no other elves had ever shown such reverence. _Probably only because of Eragon. He's practically their kin. _She looked down at Lenora, who was beaming, delighted at the attention. _Or it's Lenora. Am I nobody around here?_

They entered the munificent hallway of the queen's quarters. The decorations were not pretentious, but they were enough to flaunt her power. Intricate swirling designs were etched on the ceiling and walls, and Jeannette marveled at its detail.

The doors creaked open, and Jeannette nervously stepped through. In the center of the throne room stood Arya, who was quietly conversing with her mother. Her heart pounded at the sheer beauty of the queen. She needed neither jewels nor finery to prove her precedence. A priceless gown of swan feathers covered her back, swishing softly as she approached them.

A welcoming smile warmed Jeannette's insides, and Eragon nudged her, reminding her to bow. She nearly collapsed on the ground curtsying, but the Queen offered a hand to help her up. She could feel everyone in the room radiating incredible surprise, especially from Arya. Jeannette took her hand, feeling the warmth and strength of her touch.

"Welcome, daughter, to Ellésmera, the sanctuary of the elves. Few have ever seen such a sight, so consider yourself one of the most worthy," she said, her voice slightly aloof. Slowly, she did something even more capricious and amazing: she lifted her hand to stroke the scars on Jeannette's left cheek. Her eyes were filled with an ambiguous sorrow, and perhaps... even a touch of nostalgia?

The moment was broken when she barked a sudden order for everyone to leave. Perplexed, everyone left with bemused, flabbergasted expressions. The doors slammed shut painfully, her heart pounding loudly she could have sworn the queen heard it.

"And so fate has such a cruel way of punishing me," she raised her head slightly, as if in disdain. "My daughter, what I am going to tell you next will change your entire reason for existence. Are you sure you're prepared?" Her solemn eyes bore through Jeannette's soul, leaving her entire body numb.

Dun, dun, dun. Cliffhanger. Yes, the next chapter is extremely important. Probably the most important chapter of all time. Most of you already know the obvious, but the rest is just details, details, details...

Chapter 18: God is Gracious

I would have called it Revelation or something, but I guess this is more subtle. Hehe... can you guess why?


	18. God is Gracious

People I must thank:

Alsdssg, Brittagirl, Adelige, Issylt, Twilight Kumorichu, Outthere101, fauna natura, Mayarider, Eragon- fangirl, NightDragon0, LadyLapisLazuli, RainbowAurora, Chez- Flo, Pinayskategurl, Imma Yellow Unicorn, wolf.gren, GEMville

Plus, everyone who has this on alert or favorites. Sorry to those who don't have an account, I didn't list your name.

And last but not least, mucho, mucho, MUCHO gracias to Lieyan and Fire Dancer for being my beta readers. I couldn't appreciate you more. (Hehehe...)

Yeah, from here on out, it's a Dune/Eragon crossover. I give Frank Herbert, his son, and Kevin J. Anderson all the credit for the Bene Gesserit part of this story.

**"Like many culinary delicacies, revenge is a dish best savored slowly, after long and delicate preparation."** –Dune: House Atreides 

And finally, the long- anticipated 18th chapter...

Chapter 18: God is Gracious

"Lavina, I know you're listening," she whispered to the air. Jeannette couldn't help but gape at her incredulously. _Is the queen _mad?

"Tell me, child, what do you know of your heritage?" she inquired. _She's talking in the Ancient Language, but how does she know that I can understand her? _

"Not really anything..." she backed away slightly.

"Do you wish to know?" _Do I wish to know? I've been wondering since the day I was born. I dreamed in my childhood that one day, my life had all been a mistake. My real loving parents would claim me, and I would become someone important..._

Jeannette simply nodded. _But how would she know?_

"Your mother was Lavina of the Bene Gesserit, 86th heir of the Main House."

"What?" she blurted, not believing her ears.

"Your mother was an elf."

"That's imposs-"

"She was a personal friend of mine," she alleged aloofly, oblivious to Jeannette's skepticism, "She..." her voice trailed off, her eyes reminiscing painful memories. "Shortly before the Fall, I sent her to Galbatorix as a secret spy. It was a dangerous risk, but it was one she agreed to take. It's only one of the many mistakes I regret."

"What happened to her?"

"She was a Bene Gesserit, formerly the most elite elvish house, of course, and adept at seduction. They had a secret affair, and she induced her pregnancy to use you as leverage, but something went terribly wrong. Shortly after your birth, he murdered Lavina, or so I suspect, because I never heard from her again. And yet, this small miracle stands before me today. After all these years, I thought you were dead."

"Are you sure-"

"Look at your reflection and the odd color of your features. Your Bene Gesserit blood flows strongly within you. For you, the Ancient Language is inherent, is it not? How else can you explain your adept magical skills? I suspected this ever since Eragon mentioned it to me, and now I am positive. Do you doubt my word?" Jeannette averted her gaze, but her heart was still incredulous and her tongue could not find any words.

"A Bene Gesserit Rider has been a formidable enemy in the past, and so they rise again. You will take morning lessons with Eragon and Oromis to improve your knowledge of the Ancient Language, but you will spend the rest of the time perfecting your Bene Gesserit abilities," her nearly malevolent smile made Jeannette shiver.

"I understand."

"You will not repeat anything I have told you, do you understand? Not to Eragon, or even Oromis. The consequences will be horrific. Your first task is to conjure Lavina's deceased spirit. After you are successful, contact me. May the stars watch over you, destiny's child." Jeannette muttered an elvish blessing and rushed outside. She closed her eyes, the serenity of the forest giving her solace.

"Did it go well?" Eragon inquired, unsure of her ambiguous reaction. Jeannette was only starting to assimilate Islandazí's words.

"I don't know..." she furrowed her eyebrows, "Can you introduce Lenora and I to Oromis- elda? She assigned me lessons for the morning only." She was glad that Eragon didn't ask her any more questions despite his inquisitive look.

"Come," he waved, and she fell in step by his side.

_They had a secret affair, and she induced her pregnancy to use you as leverage._

_The king is my father?_ The idea seemed simply absurd and surreal. _That makes me a princess._ For some reason, this seemed even more preposterous that she nearly chuckled at the possibility. Her, slave- born, working tirelessly every day of her life for accommodation, Galbatorix's daughter? _It's impossible. There's no possible way..._

_Jeannette._ Lenora's voice entered her mind.

_Jeannette. _

"Stop calling me! What do you want now?" she blurted aloud at her dragon. Lenora's intelligent sepia eyes simply stared back expectedly.

"Oh." Jeannette blinked, suddenly realizing a new revelation. _Jeannette means God is gracious. God... is Galbatorix playing God? And he was gracious enough to let me live?_

"What's wrong?" Eragon asked, concerned at her sudden look of disgust. She was too absorbed in her thoughts to answer his innocuous question.

Questions roiled in her mind.

_Shortly before the Fall, I sent her to Galbatorix as a secret spy. _

_I'm only sixteen. The Fall happened so long ago, so this must be impossible. What other explanation is there?_

_And why did Galbatorix even let me live in the first place? It's not like I put up much resistance as an infant. _

_If it's true, I'm a half- breed. But physically, I'm so weak and ugly. Aren't all elves gorgeous and perfect? It's not like I have particularly pointy ears or mental capabilities. But then how would I explain the purple fire in the Battle of the Burning Plains? How I can read and understand elvish when I've never seen it before in my life?_

"Jeannette!" Oromis's voice cut through her thoughts, making her flinch. "Eragon said you were an amazing student, but for some reason you're not impressing me right now."

"I apologize, Oromis- elda."

"It's clear you have other things on your mind. When I see you again tomorrow, I expect total concentration," he dismissed her, clearly irritated, "It's pointless to teach a distracted student when I have to re- teach them everything the next day. You have much to improve, and so little time. Don't get arrogant with me either, sticking up your nose like that." With the proper good- bye to her new master, she retrieved Lenora and ran outside. She recalled the place Eragon had pointed out when she asked about where the Bene Gesserits used to live. She could see that he was dying with curiosity, but she could offer no answers right now. _Not yet..._

The dilapidated tree was still intact, but there was a certain animosity that filled the air. Spider webs covered the tree, and large piles of blowing leaves covered the entrance. This place looked like it had been untouched for a century.

Ignoring the foreboding feeling in her heart, she walked up the stairs and pressed open the door. It creaked open, revealing a dark, dusty room. She stepped through the dingy room, her heels shuffling over the creaking floor. The door slammed behind her, and everything went pitch black.

She shrieked in horror when something brushed her side and coiled around her foot.

"Brisingr!" she shouted. Something caught on fire, and the glowing light revealed spider webs coiled on her side. She cursed as she tried to stomp the fire from spreading to the nearby papers. When she was finally successful, everything went totally black once again. Trying not to panic, she recalled the elvish word for light.

"Garjzla," she muttered, and she was amazed to find her fingertips glowing a faint, artificial yellow light. The dingy room seemed only to be a corridor to the stairs on her right and the hallway to her left. She walked into the dusty hallway and into an ancient room. From the mounds of bookshelves and heaps of disarrayed books, she guessed this had originally been a library. She coughed repeatedly, her lungs irritated at the incredible amounts of dust.

She glanced at the books, but they were too covered in dust and dirt to read. Jeannette dropped a thrashing Lenora onto the ground, who sniffed at an archaic book and sneezed. Seeing nothing of interest, she turned to the doorway to proceed to explore the rest of the mansion.

She heard a crash behind her as a bookshelf toppled over and buried Lenora. Her brown head popped from the mounds of dusty books and the young dragon coughed repeatedly.

"Lenora..." Jeannette muttered, picking her up from the pile of parchments. Suddenly she spotted something on the bookshelf. She brushed away the cobwebs and dust, and was surprised to find a keyhole. Curiosity immediately overwhelmed her, but she was unable to move the bookshelf. _A key..._ Her mind jolted. She fumbled over her pockets, and was both relieved and ebullient when her fingers clasped around the familiar gold and cool amethyst. She had kept it with her ever since the discovery, but it was unfortunate that the music box was still with Alanis.

Trembling with anticipation, she fit the key in the keyhole. She had to wrestle it through, but when she did, there was a soft _click_. She pushed it forward, but it wouldn't budge. She kicked the bookshelf in frustration, but immediately regretted it.

_Allow me._ Jeannette blinked at the sudden voice. Lenora reached over and pushed the bookshelf to the right with her nose. There was a creaking noise as the bookshelf slid.

"Hehe, I knew that," Jeannette flashed a smile. She stepped through, darkness encompassing her as the light from her fingertips grew dimmer. Her suspicions were correct. It was a secret hidden room, but there was nothing particularly peculiar about it. Bookshelves aligned the walls, but unlike the previous room, these books were neat and orderly. In the middle was an oval table with various jars and books spread throughout the top.

The most peculiar object was a rusted metal stick protruding from the oval to the ceiling. It had a scaly, rough texture that made Jeannette grimace. _Odd decoration, that's certain. _

A leather- bound, thick book on the table caught her attention. Metal clasps insinuated its importance, but it was laid out open, as if someone had been reading and left, fully intending to finish it later.

Her fingers brushed its smooth pages, and she was surprised at its cleanliness.

**Elves and humans alike have inherent flaws: the deadly sins that plague our minds, our well- being, our existence. We are fools believe that everything can be explained by laws of logic or science, and it is in this belief that lies our fear. The fear of the unexplained, the mystic, the supernatural, and all that elude our grasp. It is this fear that has defaced my clan, the Bene Gesserits. We practice our magic openly for all to see, and I know that they are envious of our powers that cannot be easily explained, and that alone is enough to trickle total obliteration. I know that they are machinating us behind our backs, whispering nefarious lies to other ears, spreading this ugly disease. They incriminated us of black magic and heresy. Pray tell, what happened to those who had sacrificed their lives for the well being of our race, those with intrepid hearts who took on missions that everyone else shirked away from? Look at our history. Has our loyalty once faltered? Have we ever turned our cheek to those in need? And yet look at them now. I can see them tremble in fear as I stare into their souls. One by one, they ostracized us from society. The others refused to see the truth, but there is no doubt in my mind. Why should we tolerate this? Let us show the same _respect_ they have shown us. They are right to fear our power. I swear upon my spirit that one day, our clan will seek full redemption. Our suffering will be avenged sevenfold. And when they beg for mercy, let us show them the mercy they showed us.**

Jeannette tore her eyes away from the acerbic words. Who had written this? A Bene Gesserit, obviously. She turned to the cover, and was astonished to read the words **Bene Gesserit Guidelines to** **Apotheosis, by Lavina, the 86th heir to the Bene Gesserit House.**_ My mother wrote this? Could I use this, perhaps? Are there instructions to Bene Gesserit training and practices?_

She flipped to the table of contents, and sought out the pages that said sorcery and spirit summoning. As her eyes skimmed the page, she was immediately disheartened by the complexity of the spell. She realized, however, that she was still capable of performing the summoning, but it would be risky, to say the least, to try it for the first time without any supervision. _But how badly could it go?_ There was no harm in trying it. If she failed, she could just request Eragon's or Oromis's aid. _Actually, I couldn't, without revealing everything._

She read it thoroughly a few times, and became determined to summon her mother. She needed a previous possession (or better yet, a part of her, such as a lock of hair), some blood sacrifice, and a long spell.

"Blödh Lam," she muttered, and grimaced as a cut appeared on her fingertip. She copied the strange symbol onto the paper with her own dripping blood, and healed her finger afterward. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her jittery nerves. Since she had written this book, it could probably act as a medium and possession.

She started to chant, her words sounding nothing but dumb to her ears. She faltered, unsure, but continued. She tried to envision what her mother looked like her mind. Someone beautiful and regal, but with a kind heart. She remembered all those years when she dreamed about her parents, and over the years she had perfected the image. Glowing amethyst eyes with a firm, welcoming smile displaying a row of snow- white teeth, a strong jaw line, open arms ready for her to run into...

Her incantation ended. The room was flooded with a dark illumination.

Jeannette frowned. Had something gone wrong? She finished the verse, but nothing had happened. She peered back at the passage to see if she had missed something. _What went wrong? Could I-_

A blood- curdling scream pierced her consciousness. Jeannette shrieked in agony at the raw physic wound, which was embedded into her consciousness like a dagger. She shriveled on the ground, immersed in absolute pain.

Then, slowly, feeling came once again to her limbs and her senses returned. A sharp, cackling laugh pierced the dusty air and shivers wracked Jeannette's trembling body.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this day," a voice said venomously. Jeannette collected herself and brought herself to face the spirit she had conjured.

Her bloodshot eyes glared through Jeannette's soul and spirit, her presence all- encompassing. Her eyes were violet and unfathomable, and the Rider felt like she was being sucked into a black hole. Her dirty hair was in disarray, aligned atop of her head like a madman's mop. Her lips were twisted in a horrible smirk that revealed blood- stained teeth. Ancient wrinkles, undoubtedly from this expression, were etched on her bloody skin. A garb of all black covered her wiry figure. However, in her chest, was a gaping, bleeding wound. Jeannette saw some of her bloody organs inside her and the exposed flesh. The air stank of a putrid stench that reminded Jeannette of cow manure.

There was something about her disposition that made Jeannette shudder in horror. This woman controlled the environment around her, making everything cower to her will. Her authority was omnipresent and omnipotent like Satan's own hands. Lenora jumped and cuddled in Jeannette's arms, burying her head deep in her chest. Apprehension filled her, and she realized the feeling did not only come from herself, but also from Lenora.

"Who- who are you?" Jeannette managed a whisper.

Next chapter: Chapter 19: Two Might Be One

Cliffhanger once again. This noob keeps on flaming me. Ah, whatever, I don't care. If it's good enough for Jess, it's good enough.

I think I should just write the sequel now. I mean, it's not all that connected. Rather it's about 13 years after this series. I'm just afraid that if I don't start it now, I'll never finish it once I go to high school next year. I definitely will not update that often... TT


	19. Two Might Be One

_"I must not fear._

_Fear is the mind-killer._

_Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration._

_I will face my fear._

_I will permit it to pass over me and through me._

_And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path._

_Where the fear has gone there will be nothing._

_Only I will remain._" –Litany Against Fear, Dune

I will be incorporating Dune philosophical vistas with Paolini's and even Star Wars, especially from Traitor by Mathew Stover. (I simply _adore_ Dune, Inheritance, and Star Wars. Call me a geek, I don't care. And Anakin Solo's soooo hot! Hotter than Murtagh. plugs ears from fangirls' protests Feh, too bad he's dead.)

Seriously, flamers need to get a life. They complain about us wasting time, but I wonder who actually is...

Wow... I've made it to 100 reviews. T-T -- tears of happinness. Huh, I just realized that I'm story's never fluff. Odd... Anyway read A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray? Ever noticed how Gemma and Jeannette are alike? So creepy.

Chapter 19: Two Might Be One

Noticing Jeannette's shock and apprehension, she blinked slowly. "I suppose I haven't made myself presentable, have I? Hmm, very well." Suddenly, her appearance transformed dramatically. Her crimson hair fell to her waist, now clean and slick. The wrinkles on her face smoothed and the wound in her chest healed in seconds. The black garb changed to a white cloak that betrayed her feminine curves.

No one could argue with her beauty, but it was a different beauty altogether. Instead of the regal disposition of the elfin queen, her demeanor was more seductive, more intimate. She felt a strange thrill from this woman's presence, as if it was a risk to simply be near her.

Shudders wracked Jeannette. Who was this two- faced monster? There was no way...

"I apologize for scaring you earlier. That was the state I was in before my death," she smiled malevolently with an amused gleam in her eye, "You fear me, eh, child? Then recite the Litany Against Fear with me. I must not fear. Fear is the mind- killer."

"I must not fear. Fear is the mind- killer," Jeannette repeated. She blinked, and her hand immediately flew to her mouth. Her tongue had moved by itself, as if her own body was beyond her control. She repeated the litany slowly, her tongue dwelling on each word.

"Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

"Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain," Jeannette finished, surprised to find herself calmer and more in control.

"Good. I can only imagine what question you may have." She took an unsteady step forward toward her daughter, and Jeannette responded by taking a step back.

"Are you really my mother?" she asked, half- skeptical, half- dreading.

"I think you already know the answer."

"But you're a monster," Jeannette whispered. She was surprised when the Bene Gesserit wasn't the least offended by her remark, only amused.

"Am I? Pray tell, what makes me a monster? Surely you're not so shallow as to judge people after being with them for a few minutes?" a touch of sarcasm shone through her voice. The Rider couldn't think of a response. _Because you looked so evil earlier..._

Reading her daughter's thoughts, she challenged, "Evil? You consider me evil? And Islanzadí kept ranting about a daughter's love. Aw, aren't I jealous. Very well, if you have no questions, I'll ask you some. Why are you fighting your father?"

"If you're not evil, he most certainly is," she shrugged.

"Evil? Foolish daughter, what is evil? What is good? No one is wholly good or evil."

"But he's murdered thousands," Jeannette retorted, "You don't consider that evil?"

"And what of it? The strong rule the weak. It's the rule of the cruel universe. It's called natural selection, the secret to the survival of species."

"But those lives were all innocent and from his own blood- lust," Jeannette rebutted forcefully.

"When a wolf devours a sheep out of hunger, do you consider that superfluous murder?"

"No, that's nature," the Rider answered carefully.

"Then how about half the herd? The entire herd? Barely enough to survive? When does 'nature' become 'evil'?"

"What's your point?" she growled, biting her lip.

"My point is that there is never a fine line between good and evil. Get such primitive words out of your vocabulary. Feh, it sounds like a toddler's explanation for the injustice in the world. Everyone has their own reasons for their actions. No one makes it through life without paying. Even innocents carry their own guilt in their own way," Lavina looked down at the young Bene Gesserit.

Jeannette's mind only saw the obvious. Everything in her perception was clearly defined absolutes in black and white. _What a failure._ The breeding program had failed miserably, turning once again to a dead end. This young girl still had so many levels yet to achieve... Lavina doubted this simple- minded fool would survive the training. Then again, this was safer. Her daughter would never guess her mother's true motives, true reasons. As long as she survived the training, Lavina's plan would proceed smoothly.

"Why are you defending Galbatorix? The queen told me he killed you," Jeannette asked softly.

"Me? Defend him? Where do you get such ideas?" she laughed skeptically, her voice a high- pitched shrill, "But yes, he murdered me in my sleep. But ah, the moment before I died, I cursed him. My soul will never rest until he's at his grave. That's why he let you live. Out of fear." Jeannette's jaw dropped open. Her father had killed her mother? _And Murtagh thought his family had problems._

"But that was so long ago. I'm only 16."

"Hm, true. Shortly after your birth, I paralyzed your body in time before revealing your existence. After I died, I kept the spell intact for decades until I broke it on whim when it was the right time to fulfill your destiny."

"But why did you paralyze my body?"

"He constantly demanded my presence, and I didn't trust another caretaker." Lavina immediately regretted the words once they came out of her mouth. She saw a gleam of skepticism in her violet eyes, but only for a second. _So she knows I'm lying. Perhaps she has potential after all. _

"Of course, it doesn't stop there. If it weren't for me, you would be dead three times over by now. The first time when Galbatorix discovered you, the second when you barely escaped with your scars as testimony, and the third time when Victor's blade narrowly missed your throat. You can thank me for that pathetic dragon in your arms as well." She blinked at Jeannette's incredulous expression and continued, "What, you didn't seriously think that it was a pure coincidence that you just _happened_ to fall down the that cliff out of all the cliffs in the world, did you? Come to think of it, I think I saved your pretty neck a fourth time when you narrowly missed that ravine."

Jeannette couldn't begin to assimilate her mother's words. _She's been manipulating my life this entire time?_

"Finally you're catching up. A bit dim- witted, aren't you? Aw well, the training's going to change all that. Trust me, I'm no easy taskmaster, and I most certainly do not praise like a madman, unlike Islanzadí," she scoffed, "In only month or two you will gain Other Memory and become a full- fledged Reverend Mother. And if you fail... well, it won't be my fault, will it?" Jeannette blinked, perplexed with no idea what her mother was talking about.

"I just have two more questions."

"Hm?"

"The queen said that you induced your pregnancy to use me as leverage. What's the meaning of that?" The crimson- haired, devious woman sighed in reply.

"Where to begin... you see, I can control the process of reproduction inside of me. I can control the release of an egg and induce a sperm attraction. In the nanosecond that they meet, I can manipulate the gender and certain genes." Jeannette couldn't believe it. Lavina sounded like she was impersonating God.

"All female Bene Gesserits can do that?"

"Yes, and far more. I can control the beating of my pulse, and even feign death by stopping my heart. A good portion of us was also Truth Sayers. Even though you cannot lie in the Ancient Language, we could trace the slightest hesitation or deviation.

"All Bene Gesseritts also have supreme, unmatched control of our bodily functions. We have dormant poisons inside of us, and all of them I can release upon whim. We can also neutralize poisons, making us immune to toxins and illness."

"But you're elfin. Aren't you immune already?"

"Not to certain toxins and illnesses. Look at Oromis. Although our immune system are multitudes stronger than humans, we can still be debilitated and eventually killed."

"I see. If I'm half- elvish, how come I show no resemblance?"

"Good question. I'm not certain of it, but I suspect that Galbatorix tampered with your genes. He erased the less obvious signs- the pointy ears, the supreme physical and mental abilities, even magic. But there were some parts he could not cover up." It took Jeannette a moment to realize that she meant the odd color of her features.

"We can also use the Voice, which you already got a taste of. We can control another's actions subtly and going unseen without a trace of magic.

"Our house has mainly remained entirely female throughout the years. The most accomplished elves gain Other Memory, which are the voices and memories of previous generations. They usually offer a cacophony of advice, but at certain times they can get quite irritating to say the least. I knew a young woman who died from suicide, totally insane when she dug too far into Other Memory and the voices ravaged her mind.

"The only thing we lack, perhaps, is physical endurance. During battle, we tend to avoid physical combat and use magic instead. Still, we make deadly opponents, especially in a one- on- one battle. We do not use crude weapons like the rest of our species. Rather, we fight efficiently and quickly, striking pressure points with incomparable speed, so quickly in fact, that they cannot mutter a magical defense. For instance, if I was still alive, I could snap your spinal cord this moment at such proximity. You wouldn't know you were dead until you were halfway to hell." Jeannette jumped back, much to Lavina's amusement.

"You fear these powers, do you not? Don't worry, my dear. In a few weeks it will become part of you. Bene Gesserits are typically subtle in our methods, if that gives you any comfort," she flashed a smile that was all teeth and in no way pleasant.

_Now I think I understand why the rest of the elves feared my clan_, Jeannette thought, shuddering at the supernatural abilities of her clan, and the latent potential she possessed.

_You think you understand? Foolish girl, you have yet to scratch the surface_, Lavina smirked and shook her head.

---

"You have conjured your mother's spirit?" the queen's beautiful face lit up.

"Yes." _And it was nothing like you expected._ "She ordered that she takes control my training under her complete instruction."

"Then so be it. Would it be possible..." she turned her face away quickly, "I apologize. Please, concentrate all your effort on your studies."

"May the stars watch over you," Jeannette bowed her head. Islanzadí smiled and exited the room. Jeannette lifted her head, amazed that such a wonderful queen could have a monstrous best friend. Before she left the room, she heard the _caw-caw-caw_ of a raven and the flapping of wings. She stared into the ivory- white beady eyes, which stared back adamantly.

"You're Blagden, aren't you? So, care to tell me my fortune? I didn't trust that Angela witch," Jeannette mused. The raven fluttered its cream- colored wings and began reciting,

"While two may share two,

And one of two is certainly one,

One might be two."

(Note from Author: This is not my own prophecy. It's in Eldest on page 546. I'm just twisting it for my own purposes.)

Before Jeannette could respond, the bird fluttered away, leaving her very perplexed. She knew Blagden told the future in riddles, but it didn't make any sense. And why would he tell her?

After exiting the queen's quarters, she glanced up at the sky. It was a myriad of stars, glittering singularly with their own beauty. Her thoughts turned back to Murtagh. Where was he now? Getting tortured by Galbatorix? Machinating against the Varden... against her? Cheating on her with another woman, a beautiful noble of the High Court? The possibilities seemed endless.

_While two may share two,_

Two... Could it perhaps be Galbatorix and Morzan both having a child?

_And one of two is certainly one,_

She speculated that it could be three things: Lavina and Galbatorix, Selena and Morzan, or... Murtagh and herself?

_One might be two._

Her lip trembled. There was only one answer. _Could Murtagh be becoming his father?_ Now that they were on opposite sides of the battlefield, why should he remain loyal to her? She was the first to betray him, after all. Without her by his side, who was stopping him from being ravaged by Galbatorix's brainwashing?

_Then stop him_, Lenora retorted flatly.

"That's easy for you to say," Jeannette muttered.

_You're pathetic._

"What did you just call me?" she demanded, skeptical at her dragon's words.

_Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic. You don't deserve Murtagh._ Her face nearly boiled in chagrin and wrath.

"So what do you propose then, smartaleck? Got any better ideas?"

_Win him back._

"And how I suppose to do that?" Lenora simply yawned, undeterred, but Jeannette knew her dragon was right. Why should she expect Murtagh to love her when she isn't even going to make any effort to save him? _Prophecies aren't etched in stone, are they?_ There was still hope for bringing Murtagh back.

"You're right, Lenora. You're almost like my conscious now. Very well. I swear that I will bring back Murtagh no matter what. I'm going to train like a maniac and prove my worth to the world. Galbatorix is going to regret letting me live. Just watch me, mother, because I'm going to become the strongest Bene Gesserit this world has ever seen," she promised aloud. Lenora hummed contently at the success of her persuasion.

Lalala, the last part got a bit too romantic for my tastes, so I put a bit of foreboding into it. Poor Jeannette, she just happened to be the victim of my sadism.

Chapter 20: Vluerona

Wow, I can't believe how far I am. Chapter 20- 24 will essentially be about her training. You'll see some EragonOC love blossom as well. Conflicts will become more heated, and eventually Jeannette must choose...

Murtagh and Jeannette meet in chapter 25, but anyone think I should include a very small part about him earlier?


	20. Vluerona

This is funny. I'm actually making this up at the top of my head. Actually, more influence from Star Wars than anything else, so I guess this won't be a crossover. How odd... I amaze myself sometimes.

Hahaha, the beginning's a MurtaghNasuada flick. Aw, to the think how Jeannette would react if she knew... Mwhahaha...

**"The human body is a machine, a system of organic chemicals, fluid conduits, electrical impulses; a government is likewise a machine of interacting societies, laws, cultures, rewards and punishments, patterns of behavior. Ultimately, the universe itself is a machine, planets around suns, suns gathered into clusters, clusters and other suns forming entire galaxies... Our job is to keep the machinery functioning."** –House Atreides. 

Chapter 20: Vluerona

Murtagh rushed through the crowded, busy streets of Abueron, his eyes looking for any trace of Jeannette. Although it had been so long since the last time he had seen her, he had not given up. He refused to do so, after coming so far.

_Shade's blood, Jeannette! Where are you? Where could you be?_ Her existence may as well have been wiped from the surface of Alagaesia. He had spent a week in Cithrí trying to find her with no success, so he had come to the capital. If she isn't here, then where could she be? His frustration was mounting at his inability. He had asked around, flirted with women, and bribed men, only to turn up with nothing. If he couldn't even find a woman... he shook his head. He would find her, no matter what it took.

"Make way for Lady Nasuada!" a man called, breaking his train of thoughts, and a path quickly cleared. Soldiers and elvish spell casters surrounded the dark-skinned rebel leader, crowding around her like fat hens to a puny chick. There was certainly nothing puny about her, however. Her austere face betrayed only a hint of compassion and control. The way she raised her head and carried herself betrayed her true precedence.

His heart suddenly longed for her presence, her touch. He wanted to be next to her, to let someone else fight the bloody war, to really confess his feelings he harbored. He wished that neither of them had ever gotten involved, so they could be together without conflicts, not ravaged by war as enemies on the other side. He wanted to smell her faint perfume, to stroke her silky hair, to feel her lips on his... he caught himself in his lust-ridden thoughts and flushed deeply. If Jeannette knew what he was thinking right now, he would have suffered quite a few slaps.

He suddenly became conscious of himself in his surroundings. _Could one of them recognize me, even with this disguise?_ He turned away and entered a nearby bar, where he sat down and ordered a beer.

"Our luck's finally changing around here, I tell you. We've already captured the southern cities like Feinster and Melian. Ha! It's only a matter of time before the southern Empire's going to be all ours!" they cheered and drank the toast. Murtagh grimaced at the news. He had heard of the Empire's losses and surprises from the Varden's sudden ambushes and victories.

"I heard rumors that the Red Rider's gone, so that makes way for our new Rider." Murtagh's ears perked.

"A new Rider?" Murtagh repeated skeptically.

"Aye, I heard it's a girl with a brown dragon. Heh, now it's one versus two."

"Where's she from?"

"Dunno, you'd better ask someone else. The rumors started in Cithrí though, so I suppose she's from there. Now a toast to Eragon Shadeslayer!" they laughed like drunken fools, but Murtagh's heart was beating wildly.

"Do you know where she is now?"

"Say, kid, why're so interested in this?" the man smirked, his dark eyes amused.

"Well, a new Rider's certainly wonderful news," Murtagh lied through his teeth. Inwardly, he was cursing his head off. He knew that the man might be lying for the sheer spite of bragging to his drinking buddies or spreading the prowess of the Varden. Still, it dumbfounds Murtagh why he would invent a female Rider with a brown dragon. If he returned to Galbatorix with information like this, he might show a bit more mercy.

After paying a few crowns, he exited from the bar and disappeared into the crowd. He would ask around about this new Rider, and once he got sufficient confirmation, he would head back to Cithrí. _Let's hope I don't regret all of this. _

---

_Thump. Thump. Thump. _

_The pulse. The beating of the heart. It expanded and released every second with its powerful muscles, its veins and arteries bulging and pumping the sanguine blood that flowed through every inch of the human body. The sheer awe was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. The body was so complex with its systematic organs that functioned and relied heavily on each other, the rivers of flowing blood that encompassed everything._

_The lungs inhaled and exhaled, expanding and collapsing with every breath and providing oxygen to the rest of her body. The stomach churned the remains of lunch, separating the food through its virulent acids. The intestines aided in excretion, an essential part of body that was often overlooked by disgust. Even her ovaries, containing thousands upon thousands of unfertile eggs, added to this immense system of fluid conduits._

_Muscles that controlled every limb twitched from chemical releases from the brain. The skeletal frame held her body together as a foundation of structure. Everything was so all- encompassing, so inarguably astounding._

_Deeper and deeper, there were separate branches that performed differently. Eventually there was the cellular level. The nucleus, acting on electrical impulses as an unthinking brain, controlled even the most miniscule of functions._

_Life. _

_There was no explanation for it, and only the most naïve of scientists would try. There were no words to describe life flowing in your veins, the feelings of pain, sorrow, joy, wrath. No one could truly comprehend the complexity and immensity of the concept. It was a miracle of nature, so simple yet so cryptic. It was there, omnipresent, yet so untouchable. _

Jeannette's eyes shot open from her Bene Gesserit trance. She panted uncontrollably at the return to consciousness. She couldn't believe what she had just experienced. She had gone inside her own body and perceived each organ through an unexplainable eye.

Her surroundings became further into focus. She knew precisely where every spider sat, every shift in the air or disturbance in her environment. She simply knew like a sixth sense, an inherent knowledge. She reached out further, her Sight now encompassing the entire tree. It slumbered a dormant sleep, and her presence only tickled the ancient tree.

_Lenora?_ she telepathically communicated. She hurried outside and hugged Lenora's belly and looked up.

_Yes? _

_I can't believe how big you've gotten in such a short time. _

_Well, you see, Saphira's been giving me a growth hormone-_

_What?! _Lenora cringed at her Rider's sudden outburst. _You will stop. Now._

_I don't understand why you're so up-_

_Those things are unnatural. Now promise me you'll never touch one of those things again. Dragons in the earlier times didn't use _stimulants_, did they? _

_Well-_

_That was a rhetorical question. End of discussion. _

"Jeannette!" Eragon's voice called, "I was wondering if you had a spare moment..."

"Of course. Lav- because of my progress, I'm even free for the rest of the day," she replied cheerfully.

"Are you? Well, I was wondering whether you'd meet Rhunon with me." Realizing she didn't know who the elf was, he added, "She's the creator and master shaper of all Riders' blades. Neither of us has adequate weapons, so will you come with me?"

"Of course," Jeannette blinked.

---

"No, I absolutely refuse to forge both of you swords. I've sworn an oath to never make another sword again, so do you think I just did it so I can break it the next day? No! Now get out of my home," she growled. Jeannette took a step back at her outburst.

"Please, Rhunon-elda, would you rather-" Eragon desperately started.

"What part of no do you not understand? You've lost my blade out of the four that exist, so now it's my fault? Now I don't want to see your faces ever again," she shooed them away. They had no choice but to leave, and every time they thought they were free from her screaming clutches, they jumped from another shout from behind them.

"Why didn't you tell me she swore not to make another sword?" Jeannette asked Eragon, eyebrows twitching.

"I thought maybe she'd change her mind, since we're both weaponless and going against some of her best weapons," Eragon mumbled, clearly disheartened.

"Well, I might not have been so surprised when she started screaming in my face," Jeannette mumbled. She sighed deeply and began rambling on about her training. Eragon wasn't listening, but rather recalled her words from before.

_You've lost my blade out of the four that exist, so now it's my fault? _

"Eragon, are you listening to a word I'm saying?"

_Four that exist! Four! One is Galbatorix's, another is Zar'roc, but what about the other two? _

"I'll be right back, and this time with a weapon," Eragon murmured and ran back toward Rhunon's tree. She looked up and growled fiercely at Eragon.

"Must I-"

"Where's Brom's sword?" Eragon demanded.

"With the old elvish couple, Nessa and Ala-" Eragon had already sprinted away, a victorious smile on his lips.

---

"Ah, how appropriate to suddenly just sprint off like that. Thanks for being the most wonderful listener, Eragon," Jeannette forced through her teeth.

_I think he figured something out._

_Okay, so he's got a weapon now and not me. This isn't fair. Why am I the one who get left out? _

_Perhaps you should ask your mother for a weapon. What did Bene Gesserits use in the past?_

_It's a good a plan as any._ Grudgingly, she once again entered the deserted mansion and secret study. _This place needs maintenance. I should consider renovation as well. _

_Lavina? Mother?_ Jeannette concentrated on telepathically communicating with the presence of her mother lurking dormant in the book.

_So you need a weapon, eh?_ _I didn't think you were ready for this._

_Ready for what? All I need is some dumb sword that won't snap in half when Zar'roc batters it_, Jeannette felt a pang of remorse at the self-remainder of the harsh reality.

_Good, because you'll be more than delighted with the weapon I'm going to present you._

_What?_

_You don't see it?_

_See what?_

_And I thought we were actually making some progress in your training. Look around the room carefully, Jeannette. Don't you see something peculiar?_ Jeannette peered around the room, but there was nothing substantially different. Jars aligned on shelves, books scattered on the table-

_The table! Could it possibly be... this?_ She grasped the long stick that protruded from the middle of the desk all the way up to the ceiling. _What is this?_ She tried to pull it out, but it wouldn't budge.

"Ugh," she grunted, pulling on the stick as hard as possible. Suddenly she found herself sprawling on the ground when the stick easily went. "Ow. Ahhh!" The stick, miraculously enough, was not a stick. It had coiled around her arm, and a head and a tail appeared. It was a snake covered in white scales, its white tongue slithering in and out. Its beady ivory-white eyes stared back into the petrified eyes of Jeannette whose face was now paler than the scales.

The Rider screamed, trying to throw the once-a-stick-now-alive snake from her arm, but it only clutched tighter.

_Ophidiophobia?_ Lavina teased.

"Get the thing off of me!" she screamed, grabbing it by the neck and attempting to pull it off, which only resulted in the lack of circulation in her arm.

_It would be very kind if Master did not insist on suffocating me._ Jeannette stood paralyzed at the sarcastic voice.

_Lenora, did you just say that?_

_Say what?_

"No, no. Sticks do not talk." The intelligent eyes of the snake continued to stare at her flabbergasted, trembling expression. Suddenly, the snake bit into her arm, making her scream in horror.

_Am I still a stick? _

"Then what are you?" the Bene Gesserit whimpered apprehensively.

_I am Vluerona, protector of the Bene Gesserit, a blessed Myrmidon. _

"You're a protector of the Bene Gesserit? So you're..."

_Your new weapon_, Lavina answered.

"How am I supposed to fight with a snake?" she grimaced incredulously. In response, the snake uncoiled around her arm and became straight like a spear. Both ends were sharper than broken glass, and the snake itself was as sturdy as metal. Jeannette gaped, staring at her new weapon stupidly.

"How am I supposed to wield you?"

_Unlike the other elves, Bene Gesserits do not use swords. We use Myrmidons as weapons. They are a magical beasts lurking in fresh water, and once we discover one, we bind it with magic and they become a blessed protector of the Bene Gesserit_, Lavina tutored, not bothering to shield her boredom.

"Oh." She spun it around in her hand, surprised by its light weight.

_Yes. I am here to serve you, young Master. As a weapon, you will find me more useful than a crude sword. Observe. _

Suddenly Vluerona lifted into the air and struck the door squarely. Then it returned, flaunting aerobatic skills by twirling and spinning back into her hand and shrunk into a bracelet on her left wrist.

Jeannette was speechless.

_Yes, I am capable of conscious, independent thought. Thus, when your dragon fails and you are unconscious, I will do my best to protect you from harm. You can also store vast amounts of energy in me and draw upon my power, much like Lenora._

"Great, I get another inhuman protector," she mumbled, not knowing what to say.

_You could say thank you and welcome me. Make me not regret serving you, Master. After all, loyal servants are far more effective than slaves out of coercion._

"Sure," she blinked, shaking her wrist, still paranoid that it may suddenly transform into a mammoth snake and bite her head off.

She heard Lavina's audible sigh.

_You've got much to learn, daughter. _

Yeah, I had fun writing the end. Ophidiophobia. Who would have guessed? This wasn't a very serious chapter, I suppose.

Next chapter: Chapter 21: Playing with Fire

Murtagh will make another appearance in chapter 23 before they finally reunite in chapter 25.


	21. Playing with Fire

I know it's been a long time since I've last updated and I apologize for the delay. I've been writing my Sasuke stories instead of this one, and I probably won't update much until I've finished it. (I'm halfway through.) And screw it, I don't know, should I make them two reunite in four chapters or six chapters?

**"Natural selection. Survival of the fittest. The strong are gardeners, and the weak are weeded."** –The Bene Gesserit Guide to Apotheosis, Lavina

Chapter 21: Playing with Fire

Jeannette watched as Vanir and Eragon parried and struck with inhuman agility and feral intensity. Their movements were so impulsive and swift that they became blurred blobs, their swords clashing faster than the human eye could follow. An arbitrary spectator would simply gape in astonishment, thinking that the battle was a stalemate between two masters, but Jeannette wasn't fooled. Vanir was slowly but steadily losing ground, forced back by every blow.

Perspiration slid down their faces as the sun rose higher into the summer sky. Although they showed no sign of slowing, she noticed how their movements were becoming more languid and their reflexes slowed slightly.

Jeannette's heart lurched with anticipation as she noticed a slight opening in Vanir's seemingly impenetrable defense as he tripped slightly over a rock. She knew from the victorious glint in Eragon's eye that he saw it too. In one mighty swish Eragon flicked Vanir's sword from his grasp, which slid towards Jeannette's feet. Placing Eragon's new weapon named Nýr at Vanir's throat, claiming victory.

Scattered burst of applause broke out, including from the female Shur'tugal's enthusiastic hands. She picked up Vanir's beautifully crafted sword and handed it to him, which he accepted with a scowl.

"Are you all right?" she asked, but Eragon could only manage a nod from his fervent panting. "Well, maybe you need a new partner to challenge you more. Competition always strengthens you."

"I'm not good enough for him?" Vanir's eyes sharpened.

"Good enough, but he does have more productive choices," she replied candidly. To her amazement, Vanir raised his sword to her throat, his knuckles white from clutching it so hard.

"You have no right to say such a thing, _maðr_ (human)," Vanir spat out the last word. Jeannette couldn't believe it. Vanir was challenging her to a match right after he'd lost to Shadeslayer? She didn't know what she had done to instigate his fury. Maybe he had just been waiting for this chance. Seeing his determined expression, it was probably the latter. Well, he was in for a surprise. She was half-elf, half-human, the daughter of a king and a Bene Gesserit. She flexed her hands, recalling the hours of training she had practiced with Vluerona. Why not show them that she was not a force to be trifled with?

"Very well. Prepare yourself," she acquiesced.

"Draw your sword. I won't attack a defenseless opponent," he backed off, bracing himself. Vluerona promptly replied to his word as she unclasped from her wrist, breaking her guise as a bracelet and formed a long ivory-white spear. Vanir simply scoffed at her interesting choice of weapon.

"Stop this. This is absurd," Eragon started, trying to intervene.

"Be quiet, Argetlam," Vanir interrupted abruptly, "I have a score to settle." Eragon hushed reluctantly, ignoring a nagging apprehension at his heart.

They silently moved into a circle opposite of each other at their own rhythm, staring intently for any opportunity or slip. Vanir was the first to attack. He lunged towards Jeannette's chest, but she parried easily before his diamond-embedded sword could even get near her. Her spear had a far greater reach than his sword, which made it difficult for Vanir to penetrate her defense and gave her an advantage during attack.

They struck and parried for what seemed like hours, but neither one gave way. Every time Jeannette saw an opportunity, Vanir recomposed the next second. It took her a while to realize that Vanir was only testing her, playing with her. She gritted her teeth in embarrassment. She felt the eyes of dozens of elves on her vulnerable back, including Eragon's. She couldn't make a joke of herself now. She telepathically sent a message to Vluerona to increase her body's length at the right time. _Now! _

Vanir narrowly dodged the spear as Vluerona's knife-sharp tip struck across his cheek, creating a bloody cut. An expression of astonishment overcame his face.

"You used magic, didn't you? Your spear grew longer that second," he hissed. Ignoring him, she continued her onslaught. If this had been a real battle, Vanir would have already lost- Vluerona's tip was poisonous. Since this was only a practice match, she didn't want to debilitate him for life or hear his incriminating, pestering accusations.

He scowled and suddenly his entire demeanor changed. His movements became faster and more capricious. Her arms smarted painfully as they could barely keep up with Vanir's sweeping blows. For minutes she was forced back, until she arrived at a corner with nowhere else to run. As Vanir swung for her shoulder, she grew desperate. Vluerona coiled around Vanir's sword as a flexible whip, surprising him once again, but this time, he was expecting such a thing. He pulled hard, since he had the stronger brute strength and Vluerona escaped the red-haired Rider's grasp, leaving her unarmed.

She cursed and screamed as she closed her eyes. Vanir's sword flew towards her face, cutting through her wards like they were air... and stopped in mid-air.

As she opened her eyes, she was amazed to realize that it was Eragon who had saved her- Vanir had been using magic to get through her wards.

"Lög afren (Shame on you)," Eragon hissed at Vanir, "You could have killed her." In compensation, Vluerona transformed into snake form and bit into his wrist and slithered up Jeannette's leg. He shouted in pain and cursed as he began healing his wound.

"I apologize. I should have foreseen and prevented this," Eragon approached her, his face livid. She had never seen him this distraught, this furious. "That arrogant fool... what does he think he's doing, narrowly slaying a Shur'tugal like that? Are you all right?" Her heart still pounding, she could only manage a nod.

_Jeannette, are you all right? _Lenora's voice suddenly penetrated her mind, alarmed at her moment of distress.

_You're a bit slow, don't you think?_

_I'll take that as a yes._ Lenora withdrew her mind.

"That weapon is fascinating. Where did you acquire it?" Eragon asked, always curious.

"I..." she started, not knowing whether to mention her Bene Gesserit heritage.

"It's fine. I've always enjoyed the challenge of solving mysteries. You are one yourself, after all. I can't imagine what you do spending hours inside of that decrepit tree," he half-teased, half-mused. Thanks to her recent training, she managed to keep her composure without a slip of her emotions or actions.

"Where're we going?" she asked as she noticed he was taking her further into the forest, isolating them. She was surprised to find him nervous, averting her gaze.

"Do you know about Meöal Sumar Veizla, the Mid-summer Celebration?" he inquired, his voice hesitant. She shook her head, curious. Why was he nervous?

"It occurs every 50 or so years in Ellésmera where all the elves gather. It's essentially a festival that lasts all throughout the shortest night in half a century, which will be in two weeks," Eragon explained.

"A festival?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows, "And why are you telling me this?"

"At midnight, there is a dance celebrating the wonders of life. Even the plants and animals sing and dance along with us. It's always been custom for the Riders to begin the dance, and let the others follow," Eragon explained. Jeannette smiled and chuckled at what he was insinuating.

"I see." _Poor Eragon must have faced Arya's sore rejection, which is good for me or else I'd be dancing with air. _"Of course I'll join you. Who else could I ask, Vanir?" With her growing empathic abilities, she felt a wave of relief wash over him, which both piqued her curiosity and interested her. Why was he so nervous about asking her? It's not like she had any better choices.

"I'm glad." For a moment his eyes were aloof and Jeannette was sure that he was communicating with Saphira.

_We're coming back now, Jeannette. Saphira is so..._ Through their bond, Jeannette felt the same reverence, elation and awe that Lenora felt for Saphira. The two female dragons spent quite a bit of time together, not unlike Eragon and Jeannette. Saphira had become almost like a big sister to Lenora, nurturing and teaching her. In return, Lenora would lag behind her tail like an ecstatic child with an insatiable curiosity, constantly fascinated and obedient to Saphira's teachings. Jeannette was grateful for what Lenora had learned: flying, hunting, evading.

In other respects, Jeannette was uncomfortable to notice the subtle ways that Saphira condescended Lenora, sometimes ignoring the brown dragon in annoyance or flicking her tail in Lenora's face in disdain. Saphira, certainly, was not a humble dragon. Lenora was too pre-occupied with Saphira's noble demeanor to notice anything of the sort.

The two Riders heard their screeches overhead, their eyes squinting at the blinding azure sky.

_You two lovebirds enjoying your time down there?_ Saphira teased.

_Humph._ Eragon failed to cover a slight blush. _To think that the Rider was used to his dragon's witty retorts by now,_ Jeannette thought.

_Enjoying yourself, Lenora?_

_Very much so. We visited the Wroengaer earlier today. The view was spectacular. I'll show it to you sometime._

_I'm looking forward to it._

---

**"Those who think they know everything have barely scratched the surface. Paradoxically, once you realize and accept your eternal ignorance, maybe you are getting somewhere." -**The Bene Gesserit Guide to Apotheosis, Lavina

"You are only a mere child in the Sight as well as life. There is so much you have yet to understand. What makes you think you are ready for this?" Lavina asserted, her feet moving so blithely that she seemed to be hovering over the ground like a ghost.

"I may be a child, but I have so little time to grow. Challenges delight me," Jeannette justified.

_What a foolish child. Her arrogance has clearly gotten to her head_, Lavina thought bitterly. "These 'delightful' challenges may get you killed. Do not come weeping to me on your journey through death."

"I know my limits and abilities better than anyone else," the younger Bene Gesserit rebutted, dismissing her mother's warnings, "Give me the _Opeira Véui_." Testily, after a moment of hesitation, Lavina put her hand on the bowl and a greenish liquid dripped from her fingertips.

"You are not ready for this. One drop will kill you," she warned icily. Jeannette detected no deceit in her voice, but how would her mother know the future? She was sure that she would succeed, just like all of those other so-called 'impossible' tests.

"Well, trying is the only way to know for sure." Confident with her abilities, Jeannette brought the poison to her lips. She only needed to convert one sip of this virulent poison into something harmless. It sounded easy, but it was no such thing.

She took a small sip.

Her hands trembling, the bowl slipped through her grasp and shattered onto the ground. Uncontrollable spasms wracked her body as she convulsed, her body trying to retaliate by purging, but that was not her mission. Fighting to regain control of her body, she tried to contain the poison so it would not spread any further into her system.

She felt Lenora trying to contact her, strengthen her, offer her support, but Jeannette pushed her away forcefully. This was her struggle, her problem, her challenge, and she had to finish it by herself. She could not be distracted now.

The toxin was spreading exponentially, so rapidly that Jeannette could not believe such a venom could react this quickly. It protruded her lungs, making it a tremendous effort to inhale and exhale, and waves of pain passed through her. She clutched the edge of the table, but she collapsed onto the floor anyway, her fingernails digging the floor. She tried everything in her power, but her efforts were like small buildings against a tsunami.

Her heart pumped furiously, working like a madman, but the muscles were freezing like as if her blood was clotted and an invisible hand was fixed upon her heart. She wheezed and gasped, her eyeballs rolling to the side of her head. The agony was excruciating, overpowering any control or thought. Only Lenora's bond kept her body from failing into eternal rest, but even then, with time, Lenora's strength waned, and she collapsed as well...

Although Jeannette was beyond thought, her mother, watching her daughter's death indifferent nearby, her eyes reflecting pity and disdain, she muttered, "Now you suffer the consequences of disobeying me."

Just to tell you all, yes, Jeannette is dead. DEAD, I tell you. You don't believe me? Fine then, be that way. The reason I decided to kill her is because I'm tired of this story. I no longer have motivation to continue it. Shocking, yes, I know, but why'd you think that I didn't update for such a long time? ;;P Please don't kill me! If you don't believe me, re-read the memo. What, are they going to reunite in death or something? Haha, that's funny. I may actually do that.


	22. Unfaithful

Huh. So many reviews for killing off my main character. I should do this more often. cackling laughter No, just kidding. It's amazing how gullible you guys are. No, of course the story does not end there. You didn't think that I told you all the chapter names just to break everything later, did you? I mean seriously, Lenora hasn't even turned white like I promised RainbowAurora. Don't worry, this series has a _very _dramatic ending. The best writers in the world couldn't make it more melodramatic. Actually, they probably could but that's not the point.

I just watched Princess Mononoke yesterday, followed by Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. God, talk about juxta position. Both of them were pretty good movies, but Princess Mononoke just took my breath away. It's the type of movie where only anime could have pulled it off. Honestly, shouldn't it be called Prince Ashitaka? She isn't even the main character, for Christ's sakes...

Yeah, and my computer was really acting weird right was I was done with this, so if there are any parts that don't make sense, tell me.

The Eragon x Jeannette flick (Those Eragon fans out there, get ready):

**Chapter 22: Unfaithful**

_"Love is a double-edged blade. Wielded correctly, the human heart can become the deadliest weapon- far more potent anything palpable."_ –Lavina, unpublished memoirs

Jeannette's spirit hovered over Alagaesia. The world was so beautiful, so real... yet so ugly and adulterated through human pollution. Sheets of snow-white clouds passed over Jeannette's intangible soul. Although she felt nothing through this inhuman form, she was encapsulated in sheer awe. As she descended, she felt cool, crisp and fresh.

The wind blew through her, giving a sensation Jeannette could not describe. She could make out the dark citadels of Uru'baen, black smoke sprouting from its chimneys and dissipating into the air. The city was a center of civilization. Artisans, merchants, nobles, government officials... a third of them all corrupt. Beyond the display of affluence, she saw the blood and sweat of the working class.

Beggars, half of them abandoned children, clawed the streets, their beseeching voices cutting through her heart. Many of them, she knew, would turn to thievery and crime to fill their empty bellies. This cycle of poverty would continue for eternity, everyone turning a cheek of disgust. _Some of these children have never worn shoes in their entire life, and are likely never to_, Jeannette thought amusedly, _I can't even imagine that. A life without shoes? Without tasting a morsel of meat?_

On the other side of the marketplace, the scream of a mother pierced her soul. Tears were streaming down her face, staring helplessly at her daughter who had been separated in slavery. Her new master tied her wrists and dragged her back. Her dazed son, no more than four years old, dutifully followed a dark-skinned maiden who pestered him forward. He would grow up without parents like her. How many children had been torn from their parents in this endless cycle?

The world shifted as her soul drifted away from the city and into the outlying farms beyond, cut squarely in boxes of mismatched dull colors. To the north, caravans of traders were making their way across the plains. Men were armed and wary, and they were right to be. To her amusement, a small army bearing the Empire's crest intercepted them. Showing them the permission of King Galbatorix himself, the army seized the goods, children, women and men. The women and children would likely be put to slavery, and the men would join the army. The old, wounded, and sick would be discarded.

Their troubles didn't concern her much and hardly affected her. These casualties became numbers to her, numbers that gave her headaches. Their pain only triggered her pity, because she couldn't care less. Slavery separated families and was morally wrong, but so what? Life was suffering, and they had to pay their share as well. What shocked Jeannette was how much she had changed. She looked through these things with apathetic eyes like a machine, not a human with a heart.

She couldn't believe she was the same slave that served under Murtagh months ago. That life seemed so distant, so surreal to her now. Her previous troubles seemed so trivial, so meaningless when compared to the whole picture of the world.

_No_, she thought. _It's not right for Galbatorix to inflict such suffering. It's wrong for him to simply not care about his people. _Sorrow rested on her soul. From this day on, she would change. Her first priority was to usurp Galbatorix and her own personal wants would come second. Of course, easily said but not done. She was no longer the simple-minded slave of Murtagh. She would evolve into something much more. Plots were going to go up a notch around here. _Oh psychotic, sadist, avarice-driven Father, I suggest you watch your back._

The world became a blur as she hovered over the room in Islandazí's palace set upon a tree. Her physical body was laid upon a bed of clean white sheets. The room was flooded with warm sunlight through the large windows. Pale and unmoving, Jeannette looked ethereal, her garments an angelic ivory and her hands folded neatly on her abdomen like someone already dead and ready for the coffin. Her crimson hair fell upon the pillow, giving the room one splash of color.

To her amusement, Eragon was holding her hand faithfully, and in his eyes was genuine concern. Touched, Jeannette wondered what she had done to deserve him or any of this. Why had Fate chosen her? Why not that beggar boy on the street pick pocketing or the trader's daughter? Why her? She was not the purest of people. She did not deserve this life any more than those unfortunate persons.

Whatever she was destined for, she would complete the task Fate had set before her. That was an oath.

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thump. _Her heartbeat came slowly but steadily, her body regenerating.

Her body felt very heavy. Her eyelids fluttered and the grasp on her hand tightened. Her heart felt settled, sure and ready for what she was going to accomplish. She was reborn, and she was not about to waste this life.

"You didn't really think I was dead, did you?" Jeannette's lips curled in a slight smile. Although her eyes were still closed, she could imagine Eragon's scowl of tremendous relief.

"I am going to kill you for nearly giving me a heart attack like that. When Lenora collapsed, I knew something was wrong," he whispered stubbornly.

"Well, nobody's stopping you."

"Very funny," he mumbled, and to her surprise, kissed her hand, "Thank God that you're back. I was beginning to think that I needed a new dancing partner." She blinked, remembering the dance. She had forgotten all about that. She opened her eyes and gazed amusedly at Eragon. _He loves me, _Jeannette thought and ridiculed at the idea. The poor boy probably didn't even realize it himself. Not yet, anyway.

"Eat this," he stuck a spoonful of soup into her mouth. She slurped obediently, chuckling at the irony.

"Eragon, you realize I'm perfectly capable of eating by myself?" she laughed and grabbed a piece of bread. Energy returned to her limbs and she sat up. He blushed lightly but adamantly continued stuffing soup into her mouth.

He looked so cute that he was almost edible. She had to make a fairth of this.

Even in this world of hatred, loss, grief and anger, light always clung to darkness. No matter how bleak the world became, there were always pockets of love, joy and innocence. She cherished this moment because only now could she fully appreciate the moment's worth.

---

"I'm intrigued. What was your premonition during your brief death?" Lavina asked, genuinely curious for such a twisted woman.

"How do you know I saw a vision?" Jeannette's eyes narrowed, her voice controlled and polite.

"Have you guessed what poison I really fed to you? It was not the Opeira Véui," she challenged. Jeannette shook her head.

"It is called the Fjör Hel Eitr, a poison from an extinct plant. I alone carry the venom, and now I have passed it on to you. The powerful toxin is unlike any other because of its rare abilities. Minutes after a single sip, your body functions shut down and your heart stops. You remain dead for a few days until your body regenerates and is reborn. During this period, all Bene Gesserits have seen some form of vision through death, especially during their first time. Once you gain more control over your bodily functions, you could even control the length of your death and speed the recovery," Lavina opened her palms in explanation.

"I see. In my vision... I saw the Empire in a new light. The king must be overthrown. Your reason for this test?"

"You were getting overconfident, a flaw that easily brings death to such a susceptible race," she answered.

"Humph. It probably just serves one of your own twisted reasons," Jeannette mumbled, not trying to keep her skepticism in her voice. Surprised but pleased, Lavina was both delighted and concerned at the changes in her daughter. Something had shifted inside the growing Rider and Lavina couldn't quite put a finger on it. She seemed more driven and less simple-minded with a new list of priorities. Excellent. Lavina saw in her daughter's eyes that she was starting to challenge the answers to her questions. She was more wary now and somewhat paranoid around Lavina's presence. Still, this distrust could also be manipulated. It was only a matter of time before she would complete her transformation from an ignorant slave child to a Bene Gesserit Sayyadina, a Reverend Mother.

After the centuries of waiting, Lavina had learned patience for her vengeance.

---

The celebration was almost ready. Jeannette had expected something memorable, but she not the sheer size of the event. Elves from even the outskirts of the forest had gathered at the great elven capital. In no way did Ellésmera fall to the feet of Uru'baen or Abueron. The city was naturally beautiful in its own right, unparallel to the human creations.

The sun was scorching hot, but she could only imagine what it would be like in Surda and further south. The day was chaotic with arrangements and sometimes the elves moved infuriatingly slowly for Jeannette's taste. After all, they were immortal. They had eternity's time on their hands. Why should they rush?

The day passed quickly like all the days Jeannette spent here that passed in the blink of an eye, much to her dismay. She belonged in a place like this, but even as she hated to admit, she was homesick. She missed Alanis's laugh, Murtagh's feigned coldness, the labyrinth of corridors she had once played hide-in-seek, Thorn's booming advice and even Reba's quiet companionship. Still, given the choice, she would never go back to such a pointless life, much less as a lackey to Galbatorix's insane will.

Adorned in an embellished elven robe, Eragon looked like exactly how a Shur'tugal should look: proud, gorgeous and strong. Saphira flaunted her abilities next to him, her dazzling blue scales scintillating from the bonfire. Poor Lenora could only emulate in the older dragon's shadow with no one's attention.

As dusk began and the sun nearly dipped over the horizon, finally the preparations were ready and the celebration began. As the crowd hushed, the chorus of ethereal voices started singing. They chanted a song of life and joy, of their feats and accomplishments.

Eragon approached Jeannette who hummed from internal youth and beauty.

"Will you dance with me?" he whispered teasingly.

"I absolutely refuse. How could you do such a thing to me?" she adamantly put up a show, amused by Eragon's look of uncertainty. She laughed as he swept her off of her feet, carrying her bridal style.

"You know I don't like coercion, but it seems necessary in this case," he smiled and set her to her feet. They twirled and spun until her world became a blur of Eragon's face and flashing bonfire.

She was having so much fun that she didn't realize it. She couldn't believe how much she missed before in her life without dancing. As a slave, she hadn't imagined that she would ever get such an opportunity. She felt the eyes of the elves watching her every move and sensed their quiet satisfaction at the pairing of the two Riders.

As the beat quickened, so did their dancing. They became two creatures of heart and flesh, circling each other, becoming one in their movements. They were halves of a masterpiece dance, going beyond physical senses.

She laughed and screamed for the rest of the night, ignoring her body's exhaustion, pushed by adrenaline and exhilaration. Eragon cherished her touch and warmth, his world dominated by this dance of bliss.

Vanir silently sipped wine in a corner, feigning indifference but taciturn in his childish denial and blunt disapproval, and Islandazí was keeping the guests company. Arya was a totally different story.

Her eyes were closed, her senses absorbing the world around her. It had been so long since Ellesmera was so lively. An indescribable, unexplainable sense of sorrow and shame clung to her heart.

She opened her eyes and gazed at the two lovebirds dancing under the full moon. Their movements were blurred and rapid, but she caught their expressions of pure bliss and love. She turned her face away. Faolin and her had once been like that. Faolin, the one who offered her support and faithfully followed her wherever she went.

Her heart was heavy with nostalgia as she remembered Eragon's confessions and beseeches. He seemed so trivial and meaningless compared to what Faolin had done for her, but was he? It didn't matter anymore anyway. He had found another woman, one whom he loved deeply and whom returned his affections. They were perfect for each other. Both Shur'tugals, both lives changed by living with elves, both lives ravaged by this war. Did she not reject him, telling him to find another woman to spend his days with? _I should feel happy for them, so what is this feeling inside me that's tearing me apart?_

She gazed at the beautiful amethyst-eyed woman in Eragon's embrace. Envy suffused her and her eyes averted the sight. Islandazí paid more attention to the Rider in a week more than her mother gave her in a month. Arya didn't understand. Why was she so special? She was only a human, after all, thus inferior to Arya, or was there something more?

The young, brash human didn't realize it, but most of the elves held a certain respect for her. Why, Arya didn't understand. Her dragon was nothing to be proud of- she was an ugly brown and disturbingly lame, unlike the magnificent Saphira. Nevertheless, there was nothing Arya could do but sit here and wait for the Fates to play out...

And that's the end of this chapter! I forgot to tell you the next chapter last chapter. Oops. I haven't written this story for so long that I forgot the customs.

Chapter 23: Pain, Pleasure and Eternity

Murtagh's going to be in the next chapter and somebody dies. Wondering who, eh?

This series is going to be at least 30 chapters long plus a bunch of alternate endings, so don't worry, it's not ending anytime soon.

Here is Jess's wonderful rant. It's in chatspeak. So what? Sue me. This is not written by me. R&R if you want to.

**Eragon the Soap Opera**

Eragon: (sees Murtagh) OMG! I thought you were dead! I went ahead and married your wife!

Jeannette + Murtagh: WHAT?

Eragon: WE'VE HAD THREE FREAKIN' KIDS WHILE YOU WERE GONE! (points to children)

Jeannette: WHHHAAATTT?

Murtagh; speechless ... Eragon, you #HORE! (vein)

Eragon: Ignorant Where have you been the last three years?! Aria, Nasooda, Phil, come greet Uncle Murtagh!!

Murtagh: AAAHHHH! FTW!!!

---

Unrelated: Omare no Cool na Guts something something mistekumre:D

---

Jeannette: WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?!!

Eragon: Two years ago. Me 'n' you.

Jeannette: fuming LAVINA!!! NOOOOO!!!

Eragon: I'm afraid it's true.

Murtagh: (b:t #slaps Eragon) YOU'RE A HORRIBLE BROTHER!

Eragon: (cries in corner)

Murtagh: kills Eragon with an evil spell

Eragon: GACK!!! dies

Everyone in the universe: PARTY!!!

Jeannette: THANK YOU.

Muragh: I know. Marry me?

Jeannette: I-

Murtagh: (murdered by ninja) Gack! dies

Jeannette: Oooookay... (raises eyebrows)

Lavina: Now you're stuck with me FOREVER.

Jeannette: What? No! (runs around so fast she catches fire and burns to death) GACK! (dies)

Lavina: Oh crap. (explodes) GACK!!! (dies)

Little People: (runs around) OMGMIGOD I'm on fire we're gonna diiieeee!!!

Arya: Feh. (blows up world)

Everybody (and Arya): GACK!!! (dying in massive packs)

Narrator: Thus the end of Alagaesia with the extra umlauf. GACK!!! (dies) You guys are such mada mada da nes. OMGWTFBBQ I'm Ryorea. Ah.

FINIS

Yup, don't ask. I don't understand Jess's mind either...


	23. Pain, Pleasure and Eternity

Yes, I know it's been a long time since my last update. No, no one's killed me yet. My goal is to finish this series this month. That's right, this June. When school's out, I'll have more time, but I might go in for summer internship, but the details are fuzzy. I only have over 10 more chapters to go... heh. I have exams right now... booo.

**PLEASE PLEASE VISIT MY FICTION PRESS ACCOUNT AS MYSTICLEGEND11! **

I've written one piece of writing there, and I'm ready to post the other one once my beta's finished editing it. I think most of you will enjoy it. You'd be like, is she really the same writer? You'll also get a taste of the writing I do when I don't update this story so often.

**"Sacrifices are sometimes necessary for the greater good."** –Lavina, 85th heir of the Bene Gesserit

Chapter 23: Pain, Pleasure and Eternity

Life got steadily frustrating for Murtagh Morzansson. Although he had confirmed the location of the new Rider rumors, he didn't progress any further. All these days wasted on searching seemed hopelessly futile and needlessly time-consuming. True, he had promised Alanis that he would bring Jeannette back, but now he was considering breaking the promise he had earlier been so eager to fulfill. With each passing day he grew more anxious and nervous, an increasing apprehension gnawing at his stomach.

He did not only spend his days searching for a trace of Jeannette, but also various other things as well. Without Murtagh and with the elves' aid, the Varden was winning slowly but steadily, capturing numerous southern cities. There were rumors that a huge battle was imminent, even greater than the one at the Burning Plains. For Murtagh, time was running out.

The fruit of his work lay right in front of him: a cottage in the outskirts of the city, surrounded by the idyllic forest. By probing a man's mind, he discovered that the woman who lived here accompanied the Rider personally.

He stepped up and knocked the door repeatedly. Annoyed at receiving no response, he knocked again.

"Victor, back already?" a female voice greeted him. The door creaked open and an irritated face popped out. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were my husband. Who are you?" _'She's straightforward.'_

"My name is Fanel and I've been sent by Nasuada to question you," Murtagh answered and then resorted to magic, "_Let me in_." She did so and his eyes scanned the modest furnishings.

"Why has Nasuada sent you? She knows everything I know already," the woman wiped her hands on her smock, her dark eyes glaring at Murtagh suspiciously.

"So you admit that you know about the new Rider better than anyone else, correct?" Murtagh inferred.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," she puffed.

"Really?" Murtagh mused, confirming exactly the opposite. _'This woman may be stubborn, but she's still no match for the Ancient Language.' _

"I have chores to do. If Nasuada actually needed to know, she would come herself," she pointed to the door.

"Lady Nasuada is busy with other duties. She does not have time to collect miscellaneous details," Murtagh remarked, growing exasperated.

"Well then tell her to make time for herself. Leave now. You are not welcome here." Her eyes darted to a piece of paper in his pocket. He looked down to see what she was gasping at, and realized that there was the Empire's symbol on it. He covered it up, but the damage had already been done.

"You're a spy from the Empire, aren't you?" the woman trembled in fury and anticipation.

"I'm-"

"Get out of my house. Now," she shouted, grabbing a nearby broom and holding it out precariously.

"Please calm down. _Drop the weapon_." Slowly but surely, the broom fell from her hands and fell on the ground.

"What is this? Some kind of devilish magic? Get away from me, you spy!" she screamed, waving it tantalizingly. _'She's somewhat resistant to magic,_' Murtagh realized, _'She's even recognized it.'_

"Stay still," he commanded forcefully as his mind reached into her consciousness, trying to calm her down. She screamed as he penetrated her thoughts and dug deeper into her memories.

_A handsome face of an aristocrat. His smile was gentle, his caresses soft. She ached for his love as her heart fell for him, slowly... _

_Jeannette's face appeared, only she was a child. Innocent, vibrant, young and not yet scarred by the harsh realities of life. She was running and laughing, picking daffodils and perennials from the garden... _

_A baby's wail pierced her immense pain. The baby was tiny and soaked in blood, but even now, his face resembled so much like the man he loved... _

_A young man was polishing his sword until it gleamed like the sun. His green eyes were bent on concentration. She admired him from afar, noticing the precision and care he struck with every stroke... _

_She was soaked in sweat as the summer sun rose higher in the sky. Lorne, her son, was walking next to her daintily as they trekked along the gravel road. She turned to gossip with a pretty young woman with crimson hair and amethyst eyes: Jeannette. _

'Jeannette? Jeannette, you met this woman while you were hostage?'

"Get out of my head!" she screamed, but Murtagh only drove his mind further.

_Night fell. She was covered in dark overalls, her hood drawn across her face as they walked down the dark streets of Cithrí. He sensed the presence of Jeannette behind her. They arrived at Nasuada's temporary camp and the guards gestured her inside. Candlelight flooded the room, and she took off her hood, and so did Jeannette. In her arms was a baby brown dragon. _

Murtagh couldn't believe what he was seeing. This wasn't possible. 'Jeannette, a Rider? For the Varden?'

_"I'll be leaving for Ellésmera tomorrow, Lyla," Jeannette told her solemnly. _

She's going to the elves?!

_"Can't you stay any longer? It's been so long since we were apart..." Lyla sighed. _

_"I wish I could. I promise you I'll stay longer the next time I come back, but right now this is bigger than the two of us," Jeannette promised. They embraced for a moment- _

Lyla screamed an insult, but Murtagh barely heard her. '_Jeannette... a Rider... in Du Weldenvarden...'_

This time, Lyla grabbed a more serious weapon, a knife from her cupboard, and swung it at Murtagh's neck. He ducked and drove his mind into her consciousness, and he was amazed to find a thick barrier there. This woman had aptitude for magic.

"I'm going to kill you!" she screamed deliriously, aiming at him madly. Acting on reflex, he grabbed her wrist tightly, but she wouldn't stop thrashing. What should he do now? He doubted he would effectively be able to erase this woman's memories. He couldn't fail now- not after all these months of searching. It was unfortunate, but he couldn't leave anything to luck. He kicked her on her collarbone and there was a sharp _snap_ as the spinal cord near her neck buckled. She collapsed to the ground, and he knew it was only minutes before her death.

"Narista," he muttered and her body flew out the door. He could leave no traces here or anywhere on his way to reunite with Jeannette.

---

"Have you learned nothing?" Lavina remarked bitingly.

"I have learned that I am ready for this," Jeannette replied, undeterred.

"I taught you to never be brash and impulsive like you are now. Look at your past mistakes when you ignored my advice. You narrowly escaped death."

"There's a difference, Mother, between what the teacher teaches and what the student learns," Jeannette argued.

"Obviously, since you repeatedly decide to contradict my advice," Lavina rebutted.

"With that caution of yours, Mother, you will get nowhere. Great accomplishments have always come with risks."

"So you would rather be dead than alive?" she snorted.

"I'm willing to take the risk." Lavina turned away, fed up with her stubborn daughter.

"If you're so eager to die, go ahead. I won't prevent you this time," Lavina finally relented. Jeannette's power-hungry eyes glittered as she saw the three objects on the table: a sphere, pyramid and cube.

Lavina's presence disappeared as Jeannette stepped through the ghost and towards the table.

_'No one can pass this test with only months of training,'_ Lavina thought, _'This foolish girl is committing suicide. She doesn't realize that her death will kill Lenora, Eragon, Murtagh... and decimate thousands of people waiting for her to liberate them. She's so selfish nowadays... reminds me of myself.'_

Jeannette was ready to prove her mother wrong. She was time to make history. Overconfidence glowed in her eyes.

Her hand hovered over the sphere, waiting, inspecting. Of all the three, this object released the most intense karma that she could feel the vibe in the air. She concentrated her magic to her hand and it glowed a dull brown. Ready, she grabbed the sphere.

She screamed. Her bones were on fire. Her blood was boiling and her skin was melting. White blinding pain. That was all she saw and felt. Slowly her scarred consciousness began recovering from the initial shock.

She withdrew her mind as closely as possible into a microcosm. There was no room for agony or thought, only the essence of her soul. She disconnected from her physical body and regained control of her thoughts. She squeezed her consciousness smaller and smaller, tinier and tinier until it was minute ball of compact energy like a supernova. In one perfectly calculated nanosecond, she exploded.

It flooded everything: the agony, her body, this sphere, this false world. The nova spread until it died and converted to a black hole. Her consciousness absorbed everything and everything was sucked into the endless abyss.

_'Amazing,'_ Lavina thought.

Jeannette's physical senses returned as she was once again back in the tree of the Bene Gesserits. To her amazement, the sphere was now a tiny heap of smoked-out embers.

Her hand trailed over to the pyramid. Her index finger touched the tip of the glowing object.

Intense pleasure flooded her body. Sexual, emotional and physical pleasure inundated her at once. She felt the savoring spice of mountains of chocolate. Her soul felt the elation of being uplifted. She was flying, she realized. Flying higher and higher. Lavina's presence became a speck among millions. She felt entirely cognizant of everything at once- everyone, everything, the past, present and future. Higher she flew until she passed the atmosphere and looked down at Alagaesia from beyond what anyone had reached. And higher still.

The extreme pleasure and power increased, if possible. Every time it increased, she thought it impossible for it to grow even more, but each time she was proven wrong. She was God. Omniscient, omnipresent and omnipotent, she felt the pleasure of every fiber of every being in the universe.

There she recognized the danger. This artificial universe polarized the last test. Pleasure versus Pain.

She withdrew her mind into a compact ball, shutting out the pleasure. She dived below, trying to regain her own personal identity. Millions of dissonant emotions, thoughts and lives tantalizingly tempted her away from herself. She shut them out and their voices dimmed and grew silent. She dived deeper and deeper until she returned to her conscious body.

Exhausted in every possible aspect, she touched the edge of the last remaining object, the cube.

Time stopped.

The wings of the butterfly blurred and became totally still and defined, like a picturesque painting of beauty.

Her heart stopped beating. The sun was shining... and shining... and shining. The earth stopped rotating. The gust stopped in mid-blow. There was an infinite amount of time, just like there was an infinite amount of space.

Life seemed so pointless. It stretched on for infinity without end. If everything with form was going to end, what was the point in doing anything? Why were they even here? Her mind drifted.

What was the point to go on living? Alagaesia would one day be consumed by flames. Her body would eventually turn to dirt, dust and eventually... nothing.

_'What am I thinking?'_ Jeannette mused as she caught her thoughts trail onto unexplainable and indefinable questions that plagued the greatest philosophers since the birth of time. _'Why did life exist? To put it simply: for life's sake.'_

She was almost disappointed in the cube. The sphere had been traumatic, and the cube had been mesmerizing. This one was just... inadequate.

She opened her eyes, amazed to find the three objects right where she had seen them before the test started. _'This is impossible.'_

"How long has it been?" she gasped.

"No time has passed," Lavina answered.

"That's not possible."

"Anything is possible. Didn't you say so yourself?" Lavina smiled smugly.

"I remember-"

"You remember nothing," Lavina interrupted, "Everything you touched, felt and saw was formed from the own recesses of your potent mind and imagination. The pleasure, the pain, the endless wonders... everything was pulled from you."

"Is this some kind of fourth test?" Jeannette paused, still skeptical.

Lavina snorted. "Sure, if you want to keep lying to yourself. Time matters not. Time is only a concept invented by our limited minds. Before there was anything, there was Nothing. When there is Nothing, time does not exist."

"You've passed the same challenge?"

"Yes, but I was much older than you. In addition, I had a lifetime of training to support it. You are the youngest Bene Gesserit to pass the test. In fact, the first to pass without already becoming a Sayyadina, a Reverend Mother, with the memories of the maternal bloodline," Lavina explained, still hugely impressed.

"But if you already had the memories, wouldn't that be considered cheating?"

Lavina waved the concept aside, "As long as it helps us, what does it matter?"

"You Bene Gesserits are always so twisted. Next to Eragon and Lenora, their inferior minds are like ants."

"Don't forget, Jeannette, you're one of us now," Lavina whispered.

Chapter 24: Perils of Transmutation

Eragon Soap Opera II (Once again, NOT written by me...)

Murtagh: Not only has Arya blown up the world, I'm stuck with Eragon's three children! Three love children! DA#$ it!

Nasooda: Uncle? You're spazzing out again.

Murtagh: (composes himself) I'm sorry.

Phil: Now go make me a sandwich.

Murtagh: WHY YOU- (mutters incoherently while making a sandwich)

Phil: Thank you. Psh, just kidding.

Murtagh: (Is beyond anger) Go to bed.

Aria: But- it's 5:00 AM!

Murtagh: BED. NOW.

Aria: Psh.

Murtagh: (shouts to Lavina's ghost) YOU SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE!!! SO MUCH FOR GENETIC CONTROL, YOU RETARD! (shakes fist at sky)

Nasooda: (from upstairs) We're trying to sleep, uncle. Shut up.

Murtagh: (falls to knees) CURSE YOU, ERAGON!!! CURSE YOU FOREVER!!!

-Fin-

Once again, visit my Fiction Press account, pretty please? How about this... A BRIBE! One new review equals one new chapter.


	24. Perils of Transmutation

YES, I'VE FINALLY UPDATED! I'm so happy that I've got my butt off of procrastinating this and finishing it. The last few chapters have been a bit off-track, but now the tension is going to start rising. Personally, I detest this chapter, and I was considering deleting it entirely, so, if you want to and for all those flamers out there, skip this chapter and consider it deleted. The problem is that this is the plotline I decided a long time ago, and I don't feel like changing it.

_"Humans have unsuccessfully sought perfection since the beginning of time." _–Lavina, unpublished memoirs.

Chapter 24: Perils of Transmutation

Eragon gracefully slid off of Saphira's scintillating cerulean scales. He was bathing in sweat from the increasing heat. _'Saphira, I now regret training under the scorching sun at the hottest time of day.' _

_'I don't mind it,'_ Saphira commented.

_'You wanted to live forever in the Hadarac Desert. For some reason, I'm not surprised,'_ Eragon mused.

_'Then use a spell to cool yourself,' _Saphira suggested.

_'Right. Why didn't I think of that?' _Eragon said flatly, nearly blushing.

"Greetings, Shadeslayer," Jeannette's voice came from the back.

Smiling, he turned around, muttering, "Spy-" He couldn't finish his sentence. Her scabbed scars were gone, replaced by perfect pale skin. Her skin and hair seemed to glow with an ethereal glow as she emitted a serene karma. She was wearing a brown training outfit, but her figure was unmistakable.

_'She... she's beautiful,'_ Eragon gawked at her, drool nearly falling from his mouth.

She sauntered closer, her head held high. Her striking amethyst eyes were amused at Eragon's reaction. _'She's taller too,'_ he noticed, realizing that her forehead now reached his eyes.

"I see Saphira hasn't lost her touch. Those dives were spectacular. I envy you, Eragon, for such a talented comrade," she flattered. Eragon's heart was racing furiously. To his surprise, she looked remarkably similar to Arya. Gaunt cheekbones, long eyelashes and full lips.

"Did you- How did-" Eragon stuttered.

"I transformed myself into a replica of Arya, erasing my scars but retaining some of my own traits," she explained.

"I, uh, don't know what to say." _'There's two of them now? Am I going mad or what?'_ Eragon couldn't believe his ears and eyes.

"Wipe that expression off of your face. This appearance isn't permanent. It's taking quite a drain on my magic reserves as the illusion is activated." Eragon nearly sighed audibly in relief, but he caught himself.

_'You're very shallow,'_ Jeannette observed, _'Infatuated by outer beauty. Typical for any man. You think you're so very special, don't you? What narcissism. That's why I've always preferred Murtagh to you. His training and journey wasn't as smooth as yours.'_

"So you come here to make me gape?" Eragon teased. Shivers of anticipation surged through his body as her fingertips touched his cheek.

"Well, I knew you couldn't resist me," Jeannette smiled, their faces drawing closer. Eragon still wasn't used to her being this tall.

The moment before their lips met, Jeannette turned away abruptly. Both of them were inwardly hiding disappointment, but for different reasons.

_'That would never would have happened if I still looked human,'_ she mused, her dark eyes sorrowful.

"I'm apologize. I didn't-"

"No. It's fine," she turned around, glowing with a masquerading smile that melted Eragon's heart. The young Bene Gesserit knew that if she tried, she could manipulate Eragon's heart like a puppet. He could become her pawn while she played both queen and king. There were many advantages of having a slave who was entirely faithful and magically talented. The thought was seducing and pleasant, but something was stopping her.

It never occurred to her that someone was manipulating her like she could influence Eragon.

"Eragon, what do you know about transmutation, considering it's happened to yourself?" she asked, her fingers trailing over Saphira's scales that were as smooth as the finest crystal.

"I know that elves are inherently gifted with the ability, although it's still dangerous. My transmutation was an exception," Eragon replied reluctantly. Eragon was curious to see where this conversation was going. _'Transmutation? She can't be thinking about turning into this form permanently, does she?'_

"Transmutation isn't restricted to only elves, however. I found a spell that allows transmutation of any living animal, but the more complex the animal, the more complex the spell," she insinuated the revelation. Her eyes glanced over Saphira's flawless, impeccable scales, wings and structure. _'Dragons really are magnificent.'_

"You're intending to perform the transmutation on yourself." It was not a question. _'What else could she be implying?'_

"No. Not on me. On Lenora."

---

Eragon's face could hardly stop twitching at the sheer intricacy of the spell. Alone, he could barely manage to perform this on a _rat_ without losing consciousness. How can she even think about doing this on a _dragon_? The thought was hopeless. The spell took up at least 50 pages of the amazingly thick, dust-filled book, and it was entirely written in the Ancient Language to ensure no mistakes.

"You do understand, don't you? The larger Lenora grows, the more difficult the spell. We're wasting precious time. Since the spell targets Lenora's limp leg only, that should simplify it much more," Jeannette explained, ruffling through the pages. Eragon didn't bother to hide a snort. _'Difficult? That's like calling Galbatorix weak. This isn't difficult; it's impossible.'_

"Never say impossible," Jeannette's eyes sharpened suddenly.

_'Can she read my mind?'_ Eragon hid his surprise. _'No, that's not possible. I've guarded it securely._' "With all due respect, I think you're overreaching yourself. Magic is a dangerous, double-edged blade. If you make a single error, it won't matter how deformed Lenora is, because she'll be dead- along with you," Eragon warned trenchantly. His modest words left a dent in Jeannette's pride, but she quickly covered her sudden hurt.

"Don't lecture me, Shadeslayer," she hissed, "I'm not suicidal."

_Really?_ Lavina's voice curtly chuckled in Jeannette's head.

"How about this, Shadeslayer? Leave the entire spell to me; I'm determined to accomplish it. All I need is Saphira and your energy, and perhaps a few other elves." _'A few other elves? You could have all the elves in Du Weldenvarden and wouldn't manage to make a single change.'_

Jeannette couldn't stand it any longer. "You just watch. I'll prove you wrong. I accomplished it to myself, after all."

"I forbid you to attempt such a feat. What am I suppose to tell Nasuada with a Rider and dragon corpse by my side as I ride into battle?"

"You'll tell her that it was entirely your fault for not helping me accomplish a spell that would benefit the Varden greatly, if only you would help," the red-haired Rider rebutted.

"_My_ fault? Your insane ambitions have suddenly become _my_ problem?"

"I never knew you were so selfish, Argetlam, for such a leader of the people," Jeannette purposely instigated his wrath.

"Me, selfish? I'm trying to save our lives here and you're calling me selfish?" Eragon could barely hold back his fury at the sheer injustice of her words.

"I never asked you to save our lives. I'm only asking you for h-"

_Enough!_ Both Lenora's and Saphira's voices interrupted the conversation.

_Eragon, she only asked you for help on a spell. Will you agree or not?_ Saphira asked exasperatedly.

"I just have to prove to her that she's suicidal. To do that, I suppose I'll agree," he replied grudgingly.

"Excellent. I have everything already prepared. I'm only waiting for your consent, Argetlam," Jeannette smiled brilliantly, "Follow me."

---

Eragon's jaw nearly dropped to the ground. She had prepared everything; Eragon had a nagging feeling that she'd been planning this for weeks. In the heart of the forest was an Ancient Language seal with the entire recitation written in dried blood. _'Undoubtedly Jeannette's. She probably wrote a little each day to prevent the symptoms of blood loss.'_ Still, the smell and sight of dried blood made Eragon extremely uneasy. A small portion of his mind accused Jeannette of black magic. Occasionally he saw tiny hints of tainted, corrupt magic, but he immediately dismissed this as preposterous. Jeannette was doing this to help her dragon counterpart and increase her survival rate. Such a selfless and dedicated act could never be a sign of dark magic, could it?

"I will recite the spell at midnight sharply when the full moon has risen the highest," she explained. Eragon immediately wanted to snort at the sheer stupidity of such an act. Midnight? Full moon? This was magic, not stereotypical propaganda. Astronomical exceptions played no role in the real world.

When he glanced at Jeannette, he saw through her ambitious front and realized that she was only procrastinating out of nervousness. _'She needs my support. She won't make it out alone.'_

"Jeannette, since you are so intent on doing this, how about we do it now?" he suggested.

"Now? Let's wait until midnight," she disagreed.

"You're being impractical. If you're this prepared, then I don't see how it'll make a difference. Come on, I'll help," he pushed, smiling encouragingly.

"No, we are performing it-"

"Well, if you're scared, I suppose having the full moon above you will calm your nerves," he teased.

"I'm not scared! You're the one who's scared," Jeannette fought stubbornly, surprised to sound so much like a little girl.

"Then let's do this."

_'Eragon's right,'_ Jeannette assuaged herself, _'Everything will go smoothly. There's no need to worry.' _

"Do you have the spell?"

"Aye," she said softly, handing him the thick book, ignoring the ominous, nagging feeling in her heart. '_Lenora, Saphira, come. We've decided to perform the ritual now.'_

_'Now? I thought you weren't ready.' _

_'I am now.' _

"Will the two of us be sufficient?" Eragon asked.

"It should be, since it's only Lenora's leg. Here they come," she sensed their approaching presence as their silhouettes flickered from above. Saphira landed in the clearing magnificently by tucking in her massive wings. Jeannette felt a tinge of sympathy for Lenora who tried to emulate the older dragon unsuccessfully, limping as she landed.

_'I felt that,'_ Lenora snapped flatly, _'I don't need your sympathy.' _

_'Don't worry, you won't after the transformation. I'll be hugely indebted to Eragon, and you to Saphira.' _

_'Saphira's wonderful, isn't she?' _

_'Your blind idolization of her is childish and impractical, Lenora.' _

_'Why must you be so mean?' _

_'Well, if I was mean, I wouldn't be fixing your leg now, would I?' _

_'Let's just get on with it.' _

Lenora followed her Rider's instructions as she moved to the middle of the seal. Jeannette used a spell to immerse her in deep slumber. To her irritation, Jeannette felt drowsy as well from the serenity of her dragon counterpart.

"This is amusing. The Rider can't seem to keep herself awake, hm?" Eragon teased.

"You keep quiet. Recite this with me," Jeannette snapped, too drowsy to think of a good comeback. They chanted the spell, slowly and softly at first, but Eragon was alarmed to realize that the blood was glowing brighter with every word. Supported by Eragon, Jeannette's voice became clearer and louder, her entire concentration bent on the magical spell flowing from her mouth. With each word, the blood became alive and boiling, rising from the ground with an eerie aura as the dancing symbols revolved around the sleeping dragon. The blood lapped and rippled in the air until it sank itself into Lenora's hide, covering her entire body in a pool of blood red.

"Prepare to be reborn."

Now came the most difficult part of the spell. Jeannette had to recreate Lenora from what she was now. Her consciousness passed through the dragon's body, feeling the life behind every nerve and hearing the steady heartbeat of Lenora's willpower. With the combined magic of Saphira and Eragon, her magical Eye saw through every flaw in her structure, every scar in her hide and even the tiniest details that kept her from reaching absolute perfection, the tiny marks of uniqueness and self-identity. Like the hand of God, she focused on Lenora's leg and erased the scars that had been there for so long. The sheer immensity of the task overwhelmed her. She reshaped her bone structure and formed new tissue with her mind envisioning the completed job. Slowly but surely, the new leg formed from the magical recesses that created life itself.

Eragon, watching the entire process unfold, stood in sheer awe of what she was performing: recreating life. He himself would never be able to pull off something of that extent. Did she not realize what she was doing? This led to the discovery of so many other doors. Together, they could create life. New organisms and new species, perhaps hybrids and revive extinct ones. They could even create an image of perfection, a supreme body of the perfect genes. The possibilities were endless.

---

Night fell, but Jeannette would never have noticed. Lenora's transformation was so close to perfection. With the perfect body, Lenora could become the greatest of all dragons that had roamed the earth. Still, Jeannette knew Lenora's greatest yearning: to be beautiful. Although the Bene Gesserit couldn't blame her for having such an innocent, childish desire, she found herself guilty to realize that she could accomplish her greatest wish, but she was simply too fatigued to do so. To be honest, Jeannette knew this chance might never come again. A beautiful dragon couldn't be an ugly muddy brown color, now can they?

Drawing on the last of her reserves, she completed the leg recovery and started the color transformation. What color should Lenora be? Not blue, red or black, obviously. Green or purple, maybe? Glaedr was already a magnificent golden. Then silver, perhaps? Yes, that was a sufficient color. People would get blind by staring at her under a scorching sun. Her decision decided, her Eye passed to the very roots of the genes on her hide and scales to change everything from brown to silver. Anyone else would call it a ridiculous, impossible feat. She would be absolutely insane to attempt such a thing. To change a dragon's color simply because of beauty? This simply made Jeannette more determined to accomplish this. She washed away the pigment, but suddenly she recoiled in shock. Her entire magical reserve was gone. So was Eragon's and Saphira's. She was so entranced in the transformation that she had not noticed that they were completely depleted of energy.

'No! I can't leave Lenora like this! To withdraw in the middle of a transformation, who knows what will happen to her?'

Panicking, Jeannette was out of options. She needed to get the life source from somewhere- anywhere. There was only one other place left: the forest. Could she really sacrifice all those lives to ensure Lenora's successful transformation? If she didn't, she might be gambling Lenora's life.

'No, I can't fail her now. I don't have a choice.'

With all her might, she drew upon the burgeoning life of the forest. The pines, the trees, the mosquitoes, the ants, the game, and entire life of the world around here. She drew upon everything there was. The grass shriveled. The trees collapsed into withering bark. The birds suffocated before dropping to the ground, lifeless.

Shocked and terrified by the sheer murder she had just wrought upon the innocent land, she withdrew her mind entirely back into her conscious body.

The seal immediately collapsed, but nothing mattered because Jeannette's entire world was a black abyss.

_'Jeannette, no...' _Eragon fought to keep consciousness, shocked to realize that he could no longer sense her presence. Her body was simply a shell, devoid of life.

Death consumed them as blood soaked into the earth.

Next Chapter: Secret Rendezvous

I'm pretty sure you guys can guess whom...

---Author's Note---

1. No, she's not dead. _Yet._

2. I have totally lost interest in writing this series.

3. I will finish it because I am not letting a 60,000-word story go to waste.

4. I will finish it before the summer ends.

5. I will need your help.

6. Yes, I know the chapter sucked. Suminasen. I'm only writing for the sake of finishing this series.

7. Sorry of Eragon is OOC and too mature in this series. I'm trying, but I haven't read the series in a long time.

8. Someone recommend me a story that is incredibly awe-inspiring and in the Eragon section so I can find some inspiration to continue this story.

9. The more I realize it, the more cliché my story becomes (and more Sue-ish. God, I couldn't make a bigger Sue if I _tried_ to). The problem is that I've planned out the end to such a fixated plotline that it's like, engraved in stone for me.

10. When's the third book coming out? I know it's this summer. I found out and then I forgot. That might get me some inspiration.

11. All in all, flames are welcome, but criticism is far more appreciated. The plotline as a slave, for her, is totally illogical- I admit it, and I hate illogical books/ movies, especially ones like Napoleon Dynamite. (Don't get me started.)

12. Now that I look back to the beginning of the series, I know that in a few years, I'll be entirely embarrassed to confess that I wrote such a pathetic thing. (Trust me, I know from experience.) Who knows, I may come back after I graduate and re-write everything. We'll see how Paolini is doing too, neh?

13. Why did I take so long to update? Well, for one thing, no one answered my plea to read my publications on Fiction Press. One review equals one update, remember? Plus, I'm just plain lazy. I'm also obsessed with Prince of Tennis right now. I've watched and read the entire thing in the matter of weeks.

14. INKHEART IS COMING OUT! In a movie... in 2008. Hmm...

15. I originally planned a sequel with Jeannette's daughter in it. Now I'm pretty darn sure I'll never get to that... or the prequel as Galbatorix x Lavina.

16. OMG! OMG! OMG! Sorry if I gave you eye spasms from that, but I just thought of an incredibly wonderful addition to the Galby story. Hehehe... since I won't finish it as a series, I'll probably just make it as a long but succinct one shot. (squeals) Can't wait! It'll be my very first fan fiction that doesn't have an OC character. Amazing, neh? Everyone's gotta read it! If I combine Galbatorix into a song fic, is that a little bit too much? Hmm... a Christian rock band and Galby... I wonder how Paolini would think of that.

17. I'll try to write a chapter a day. Wish me luck, nya? Echizen Ryoma: Mada mada dane. Me: You are!

18. Oh my effein' god, did I really write all these words and chapters? Wow. I amaze myself. Where did I find the time to write this crappy stuff? (I'm talking about earlier chapters.)

If you've read up to my maundering to this point, you have my eternal respect. 


	25. Phoenix Fire

_Chapter 25: Phoenix Fire_

Thin mist coiled around her face, her hands and her legs. Every inch of her skin was exposed and bare, shrouded in shadow, but no coldness touched her. Heavy iron shackles were fastened around her wrists and ankles, and were connected to lengths of chains of the manacle of another naked victim near her. Everywhere in her vision, clouded by a sheet of impenetrable smog, stretched naked bodies of men and women, fathers and mothers, the strong and the weak, the eldest and the youngest. They appeared like apparitions of a nightmare with a deliberate slowness of gait. There were the slim figures of children carrying babies, of hunched bodies doubled over like as if invisible whippings hung above their heads if they dared lift their eyes. Their eyes… there was no spark of life in them, and it seemed as if she was staring into the deepest pits of nothingness, and a coldness washed through her soul, leaving shivers in its wake.

Only then did she realize that her callused feet were moving by themselves with the crowd of the undead souls, and she stared down at them stupidly, as if unable to comprehend that they belonged to her. She willed her feet to stop, to remain inertly in place, but it was as impossible as transmuting them to gold. The linked chains pulled her forward like an invisible, inexorable gravity, and she felt herself powerless and struggle meaningless, like a toy boat caught in the unforgiving might of a typhoon.

_Is this death?_ A cacophony of moans and wails filled the starless sky, reminding her of a sea of bedridden patients writhing in agony, doomed to a slow, painful end. She was beyond sadness, pain, fear, or regret. Her being felt hollow like an empty shell that harbored nothing inside.

The trek continued. Their feet did not grow tired of the steady pace or disheveled footsteps. Their moans did not cease, covering over the rattling and chinking of the chains. The mist continued to shroud them, not in darkness, but a kind of protection, a cleansing almost.

They walked for many eternities. Jeannette had long lost herself in the folds of time, and something inside her changed irrevocably. She remembered when she was just a child born in slavery. The days were long and the chores were hard, but to a certain degree, she was content then. Her memories with Wynfrith and Alanis were golden. Of course, there were also the days where she had suffered twenty lashes for disobedience, the days she would have done anything for a crust of bread, the days where she worked tirelessly without a wink of sleep. There were the beatings, the starvation, the exhaustion, but they were always eclipsed by something more: a touch of cheek, a grace of smile, a sense of belonging. As a slave, she had been so happy.

Then, there came Murtagh. The very thought of his name made a welter of emotions boil inside her. He was also a victim of fate, but he was so strong. He never faltered or hesitated. No matter how binding and debilitating the spells Galbatorix slammed into his mind, no matter how long or extensive the torture, he would never lose himself. It was this strength—this strength of spirit, of will, of identity so powerful that she had never met anyone else in the world similar to it. It was why, in the beginning, she had been attracted to him. The sincerity of his smile, the gentleness of his caress, the way he held his head up high, the power of his emotions… everything… the way his lips met hers under the moonlight, the warmth of his finger trailing her jaw and the love—the love expressed in his eyes in a way that words would never suffice…

It would have been better if they had never met. Then she would never have been entangled in this horrible, horrible mess. Then Lenora would never have died. Then she would not have become this disgusting creature of arrogance whom she did not recognize. She was no elf, no Rider, no unlikely heroine. She had dived into the deepest recesses of black magic and become this person… this thing that bore no resemblance to the human Jeannette. She was only a liability to Murtagh. Without her, he might find a way to escape Galbatorix's grasp. _Since when did things become like this? Since when did I lose myself?_

_You are finally beginning to understand. _The disdainful voice pierced through her consciousness, and there was no mistaking it.

_Lavina, where are you?_ She raised her head in surprise.

_Right here,_ the voice answered. Hovering to her left was a pale figure of marble-white skin and striking amethyst eyes. Her face was contorted with disdain and held traces of long-lost beauty.

_How are you here? What is this place? _So many questions were burning inside her curiosity that she didn't know where to begin.

_This is the Gate of Meridion. This has been my haven for many eternities, as I linger here between life and death. Time does not exist in this plane. Seconds may appear to be eternities, while millennia may pass in the blink of an eye. Here, the souls who died of unnatural deaths assemble, those who were murdered unwillingly and slaughtered unjustly. The chosen few will be reborn in reincarnations, but most of them will slowly cease to exist._

_So I'm going to disappear?_

_Most likely._ Blunt, but effective.

_Is there no way out? Must this be the end of me?_

Lavina was silent in contemplation, and after what seemed like an eternity, she replied, _There is a black magic called Phoenix Fire. It is a power so precarious that even Galbatorix dares not wield it even though he knows of its existence. _

_Will it save me?_

_It might give you a chance. That is, if the spell succeeds. _

_Then why have you not used it upon yourself?_

A corner of her lip tugged. _Because Galbatorix himself has condemned me to never again walk among the living. If we combine our strength, then perhaps… Do you want to live?_

In any other predicament, she would have laughed at the question. It echoes sounded so similar to that of playful banter when she was in the company of Alanis or Murtagh, but here, death and life were no longer so abstract. Death would be such an easy escape, a painless end, but she also knew that it was the coward's path. Yes, she realized. Yes, she wanted to live more than anything else in the world. A surge of the most primitive desire—the will to live—flooded the center of her being. It slammed into her so strongly that her body trembled in need and tears clouded her vision. Even if it was for one last time, she wanted to feel the warmth of the morning sun shine upon her face… the ability to gaze upon the innocence of a child… the simple pleasure of watching the morning lilies bloom in the wind… the serenity of watching the world transform into a blanket of white powder… if only one more time, she wanted to see the infinite expanse of the azure sky.

But most of all, she wanted to atone for her sins. If she aided the downfall of Galbatorix, it may, perhaps, ease a portion of her guilt for Lenora's death. Part of that atonement, she decided, included self-punishment. She condemned herself from letting Murtagh know of her existence until he had escaped the influence of Galbatorix. She knew that these measures were miniscule in comparison to the suffering she had wrought, but for now, it would suffice.

_That was not a trick question, foolish girl._

_Yes, yes, of course I want to live._

_Then listen closely. The sheer amount of power necessary is only possible if we combine our identities. This means that I will permanently manifest in a part of your consciousness._

_Very well._

_If we are successful, then we will live once again for twelve full moons and no more._

_And after twelve full moons?_

Lavina was silent, and her eyes were more solemn than she had ever seen them. _That knowledge eludes me._

Jeannette stared agape. _You… don't know? You don't know what will happen to us after a year? How do you know our souls won't burn eternally in hell?_

_I don't. Phoenix Fire is a double-edged blade, just like any black magic._

She gritted her teeth. _More like sealing our fate with the devil. Are you purposefully deceiving me so I submit to a worse fate?_

_What, what do you think will happen? I'll take over your body and seduce Murtagh for myself? I no longer play with such childish fantasies. My obsession is the revenge… the hunt… the kill. Outside of that, nothing matters._

Suddenly, everything became clear. Ever since the beginning, Lavina's sole motive was to kill Galbatorix. The motive was honest enough, but the hate and obsession the dark witch harbored… wouldn't the force of those emotions unleash a greater evil?

_I have lingered in this plane for so many eternities that it would turn every man in history insane. My soul has wandered the dimensions of the living as long as Galbatorix himself. Do not lecture me on philosophical balderdash called morality. I will ask you one last time: do you want to live or not?_

Her violet-eyed daughter closed her eyes, and the chain rattled one last time, before she spoke words truer than any before in her life: _Yes_.

* * *

MWHAHAHAHAHA! I bet you all thought that I had given up on this story and trashed it. An update at this time was probably the last thing you ever expected to land in your inbox. Well, you were partially right. For this update, thank the recent reviewers who gave me a spark of hope, but mostly my best friend Andrew who sent me the eBook of _Brisingr._ I had planned to get it in print pretty soon, but because he sent me the electronic copy, this came out to you maybe a month sooner. I am still in the process of analyzing Paolini's diction and some syntax, because it eludes me how he manages to wrack his brain for the most archaic but cool-sounding words in an impressive array of purple prose and tongue twisters. I'm only about two-thirds through the book, and I must say that Paolini does not know the meaning of: skip the parts the readers won't read. I mean seriously, DID HE HAVE TO USE UP TEN PAGES JUST TO EXPLAIN HOW HE FLEW OUT OF HELGRIND CARRYING SLOAN? AND ANOTHER TEN PAGES DESCRIBING HIS CONFLICT OF HOW TO GET RID OF THIS GUY?

Relating back to this story again, judging on the response, I'll determine whether I have a pointless and sad ending or an unrealistically happy ending. I'll try to update once I get to winter break, but don't bet on it. I also need to incorporate more _Murtagh_, for goodness' sakes.

Oh yeah, and a truly sincere thank-you for everyone who has stuck with me. You have my utmost and honest appreciation.


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